What Lurks in the Darkness
by MonkeyMindScream
Summary: There is one very important detail you must be aware of. Death is not the end. There is, surprisingly, a return trip. It is possible to retrace your steps. And yet...there are still a lot of people who want you dead. Collab-fic.
1. The Scheme of the Hierarchy

His eyes were closed for the barest second. Behind those eyes a sharp mind worked. His thoughts could not be described was frantic, for he was simply not that type of person. One thing was ever present and that was his confidence. One day it would grow and swell into arrogance, but it was hard to act arrogant in the company he kept. Arrogance could be a downfall. Confidence was essential.

His companion didn't notice the blink.

"You've been in the Circle for a long time, Cadel."

The second man remained unmoved. "Cut the small talk." His eyes and hair were of a dark color, almost in contrast to the man in front of him, whose hair was a dinged brown, and eyes were a violent, unnatural shade.

He rubbed his fingertips together lightly. "All right," he agreed. "Surely you know that there are some members of our order who are not entirely..."

"Committed. Devoted. Understanding of the Circle's purpose. I know precisely what you are speaking of." Cadel's expression of suspicion and dislike deepened, and his breathing quickened slightly.

"Precisely. They don't deserve to serve under the Master. They should be weeded out, and with speed." His gaze was steady. Leaning onto his elbows, he looked hard at his companion (though the faint trace of a self-righteous smirk lingered on his countenance) and said, "And that's what I was doing. _That_ is the naughty little deed you caught me in the middle of. Some may call it treacherous. But it must be done. Treachery to punish traitors."

A part of Cadel's mind stirred; he wanted to believe it. This talk of purification was attractive. The Skeletal Circle was becoming decadent, its members becoming younger and they always asked for too much... That was not what the Circle was about.

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked instead.

The other man sighed, placing his hands flat on the table and pushing himself up. "I'll show you."

Cadel followed him down a stone corridor. It was eternally gloomy in the chambers with only flaming torches to light the winding paths, and the great hall was the darkest of all. Their footsteps made tiny scuffing noises in the gloom.

"And we return to the scene of the crime," the figure in front of him announced.

"What you're about to show me had better be good, Grimmlock."

"Patience, my friend." Grimmlock opened the doors without lifting the torch out of its bracket. It was dark, but you were not allowed to bring any torches into the great hall.

The pair stepped through the arched doorway and into a black chamber. Every sound echoed in the room. You couldn't hide a thing.

Cadel heard the rustling of Grimmlock's robe as he waved an arm in the air. A purple flame ignited in the very center of the room, high up on a pedestal, throwing a murky glow onto their faces. The light did not penetrate the shadows enough to reach the walls of the huge cavern, but it pierced through every mind.

Grimmlock allowed the tiniest of smiles to crawl across his face. "I shouldn't need to tell you to behold the greatest power in the universe, should I?"

His companion looked up reverentially while tendrils of flame leapt out and crackled like lightning in the air. Upon the pedestal a great amulet lay undisturbed. It was the largest of all; the Skeletal Circle members carried only smaller semblances of the great amulet. And through the stone of the amulet, the eye of the Skeleton King watched.

From deep within the jewel, a dark energy flickered into life and enveloped it. The violet flame curled in on itself and formed into a rough ball, glowing stronger. The sound of lightning remained.

Wordless, Grimmlock began to walk up the steps of the plinth.

Cadel's heartbeat quickened. _He wouldn't dare..._

His voice rang out into the silence. "Are you coming, Cadel? I have a wonderful magic show planned for you."

Cadel let out a ragged breath, putting his head down and climbing after Grimmlock. The stone steps were regularly-spaced, but one had to carefully feel for them. It was a long way to fall.

They stood at the top together. It was the closest Cadel had ever been to the amulet, but no doubt Grimmlock had been in such proximity many times before. The light was almost blinding at this close a distance, and Cadel had to lower his gaze. Usually light sources are warm. The brightness surrounding the amulet was cold.

"Magic is just another form of psychology," Grimmlock murmured. He lazily reached out his arm, as if bathing in the light. A thin wisp of dark purple jumped out from the main body, separating. It vanished into his index finger. "The magician draws attention away from his left hand by looking at his right. The enraptured audience watches the right hand, and when he opens it to reveal nothing, they never think of his left."

"And stealing the Master's power would help you _how?_" Cadel growled quietly. "As well as hiding it from him!"

"Why, the process is simple. I go to the less knowledgeable members of the Circle, offer to tutor them in our ways. They can choose the hard way or the simple way. The simple method involves some pretty neat tricks and a lecture. The other involves a lot of zapping and screaming. If it doesn't work out, well, it doesn't work out. I can always return the Master's power. He will never notice it was gone; I found a very useful spell for that." Grimmlock glanced sideways. "And besides, it is not stealing."

Cadel clenched both of his fists. "The Master is not offering you his power. You are taking it. That is stealing. And you were taking _far_ more than _that _when I caught you!" He jabbed a finger angrily at the orb of light. "You may have dulled his senses, but the Master will find out. No matter how high-standing you are within the Circle, no matter what your intentions were -his wrath will be beyond imagination!"

Grimmlock's face bore no sign of worry. The purple light made him appear to be extremely relaxed. "But listen here, the Circle can be restored to its forgotten glory. No more young upstarts. We can go back to the true way of the Skeletal Circle…

"Surely you don't think it is too late for that, do you?"

Cadel's only answer was a grunt of pain. He fell to the side and went tumbling down the staircase, shouting and cursing. Grimmlock watched, intrigued, at the two falling bodies. As soon as they reached ground level they both sprang apart and leapt to their feet. One ran low at the other, but he dodged and kicked the first figure in the legs. The violent brawl was only in its early stages.

A high-pitched scream cut through the air, long and loud.

Grimmlock ran down the steps three at a time, his robe rippling with the movement. Cadel could defend himself; he was smart enough for that. He himself opted for the option of flight.

The screamer had silenced for but a second. Another shriek began, even louder.

It did not go unheard. Members of the Circle poured through other openings in the chamber walls, coming from all directions. They rushed toward the pedestal and looked up in alarm. Several strong men held back the two fighters. Grimmlock could mingle with them, and somehow direct the blame onto Cadel...

"Seize that one! Seize him _now!_"

He stopped, eyes darting quickly. Running through the crowd would be offering himself to a trap. They would only surround him if he scaled the pedestal again, and then what would he do? Jump off?

_It was good while it lasted, _he thought ruefully to himself. Without a single anxious tremor, his fingers reached for the amulet at his neck.

_But it isn't over yet._

The stone floor grazed his arm as Grimmlock skidded across it. He kicked savagely at his assailant, hearing a satisfying moan as the attacker released his hold. His hand flew to the amulet again-

The shadows shrank. Every eye stared unblinking at the plinth as the violet fire surged explosively. The steps were soon covered in a waterfall of flames, the purple color darkening to black as they ran down the plinth.

Several people had the sense hold down Grimmlock's arms down. The group collectively shuffled closer together and the doorways banged shut, barring his escape.

_Damn it._

The important thing was not to panic. No one has mercy on a blithering, crying fool. There was a chance for him to get out of trouble, if he took it at the right time and did the right thing...

No one noticed the transition. The Circle dropped to their knees, and the people holding Cadel and Grimmlock did their best to bow their heads. "Master..." the gathering murmured in unison.

A figure stood atop the pedestal. Empty eyeholes looked down upon them. The voice was a gravelly hiss.

"_Rules have been broken..."_

The great hall was silent, every eye closed in respect and every breath held.

"_There has been treachery among you!"_ The death's head moved, looking to the side at a young man cradling his chin and a woman with slightly red cheeks.

"_Tell all that you know!" _the specter snapped harshly. _"And make it quick!"_

The pair bowed their heads even lower. "Yes, Master."

"_Well?"_

They cringed. Without lifting his head, the man burbled out, "These two we have captured...we followed them, suspected them of doing something odd... We caught them siphoning energy from the amulet, Master! Stealing it to fulfill their own goals!"

"That's a lie!" a shout rang out, echoing against the walls. "I wasn't involved! I caught him in the great hall, sucking the power away and he fed me this fanciful story to cover it up-"

"_Enough!" _The flames on the stairs surged upwards. Everyone flinched involuntarily. _"Take him away! Give him to the stinking creatures of the Void."_

The man's face contorted in unadulterated fear. "No, Master, please! It wasn't me, I swear on my life-" The men gripping his arms tugged roughly. "Grimmlock, you bastard! You were the highest standing person in the entire Circle; how could you go against that? You betrayed the Skeleton King, after he made you his right hand man! I hope you rot in the Void for this, you despicable _slug-_"

The doors swung shut with a reverberating grinding sound, and the last anyone saw of him was his shrinking figure kicking madly and thrashing against his captors.

The eyes on the death's head narrowed. It turned to focus on Grimmlock, who dared to meet the gaze shamelessly. His mouth was closed in a thin line, but there was no other sign of open defiance on his face. The rest of the Skeletal Circle looked at him in disgust.

"_Ah, my second in command on Shuggazoom City,"_ the voice hissed. _"My most loyal of generals." _The voice rose in volume and harshness. _"The unfortunate man is right! You _will_ rot for eternity in the Void for this heinous treason!"_

Grimmlock blinked, watching the clawed hand reach forward, directed solely at him. There was no huge surge of fear, only a faint fluttering in his chest. It was all unreal. His body felt numb...

There was a collective gasp from the members of the Skeletal Circle. The men who had been holding him threw up their arms and stepped backward. The women turned their faces away.

The oily black smear upon the stone was largely ignored.

The Master's hoarse voice broke through the quiet. _"You two! Name yourselves."_

The young man and woman shuffled forward. "Howe Cinco and Vesper Balin, Master."

An ugly smile, more like a sneer, spread across the face. _"I am going to reward your loyalty..."_

Later, when the two would sit together and remember their sudden promotion in the Circle's ranks, all they would speak of the deed they had done was this:

"I could have taken on both of them, you know. Just because I'm a woman-"

"I'm certain you could have, Vesper. But you're better at screaming than I am."

"I suppose you're right."

And that was the end of it.

* * *

Cadel opened his mouth wide and screamed. Something grey and ice cold brushed against his right cheek. The skin on his arms began to prickle uncontrollably, like pins and needles. The prickling intensified, his flesh becoming unbearably hot. The breath of some creature hissed and skimmed across his face.

He could see death itself...

The two men in Circle robes took a firm hold of him, and with a heave pulled him out of the luminescent portal. The opening shrank and fizzled closed, vanishing into nothingness.

They left Cadel there on the hard ground, clutching at his head and muttering to himself, his mind so far gone that he forgot his own name.

* * *

Grimmlock blinked, watching the clawed hand reach forward, directed solely at him. There was no huge surge of fear, only a faint fluttering in his chest. It was all unreal. His body felt numb...

He took in a sharp breath, the air whistling through his lungs. His body was no longer numb and unfeeling. The Skeleton King would have been a fool not to let a traitor _feel_ his punishment. He should have expected the immense pain, but he was unprepared.

Grimmlock coughed, painfully. The inside of his chest seemed to burn with fire, fire hotter than anything you could light. His flesh stung like an open wound. This was the power of the Skeleton King. What idiocy had possessed him to go against that power? What had seized him to try and take it for his own...?

Arrogance was an unbecoming trait.

With a final gag on his own blood, his vision went dark.

The oily black smear upon the stone was largely ignored.

Grimmlock was dead.

* * *

-Yes, I put something up after yet another long silence. Yes, this is a multi-chapter fic. But what you DON'T know is that I didn't write this alone! This is a co-written piece of work! As for who co-writ with me…Anybody know DarkFlameOfTheMonkey? Yes? Good. NOW GO! GO AND PAY TRIBUTE TO HER! FOR SHE IS THE QUEEN OF THE UNIVERSE! No. Seriously. She is. Go ask her. She said so herself.

Anyway, she was kind enough to allow me to post our fine piece of work in my account. She had her reasons why. She also wrote the majority of this chapter, so if you think it's good, please direct all complements to her. Thank you.-

Review if you read, and please, for both mine and DFOTM's sake, PLEASE LEAVE SOME CRITIQUE. Thanks. Again.

By teh way, I am owning Grimmlock, and DarkFlame is owning Cadel.-


	2. Death & War and Events Afterwards

"Be careful, monkey!" she screeched as he stumbled over a sharp rock.

Mandarin exhaled angrily, his breath forming a plume of white in the chilly air. The wind howled along the slope, as if trying to send them tumbling back down. "Hold that tongue of yours, witch. Or I might just drop the Fire back down this mountain."

"You wouldn't _dare_," the red monkey seethed. "We worked hard to get to this point, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it!"

Mandarin whirled around and stared Sprx in the face. "I've had enough of her contempt!" he roared. "She wouldn't have even gotten this far if it weren't for me!"

Sprx snickered unkindly at this, as the orange wretch had inadvertently implied that he was the sorceress's mode of transportation, a task that had been repeatedly forced on him. Mandarin mistook the laugh at his expense for a skeptic one.

"She'd be in that infernal space prison had I not broken her free at the Skeletal Circle! _Then_ what would've happened, I ask you?" The red simian rolled his eyes, causing the undead monkey to flare up further. "And how dare _you_ accuse me? You know nothing of the Master! You're just a pawn to him. You cannot be properly trusted just yet."

The smirk vanished from Sprx's face. "Oh, there's a joining fee? You never mentioned that. I'll take my services elsewhere." The red monkey's face tightened into a snarl and he quickened his pace, drawing level with Valina. "I could fly into the pit first, get the thing started. I'll be happy to leave this fool behind." Sprx jerked his head in Mandarin's direction.

"No," she snapped in answer. "No one shall precede me. Not even you, simian."

Climbing the mountainside into the Pit of Doom was a trying task. The landscape was bleak and uneven, not to mention immense. The rock was as black as the night that blanketed it, the incline severe. A strange enchantment surrounded the Pit. It was made for no one to escape, and their powers dimmed as they neared the summit. Every step of the trek had to be made physically.

And ceaselessly, the wind tore at their bodies like ravenous beasts. None of them dared to shiver.

At the peak their footsteps sent chalky rubble crumbling down into the shadowy abyss. The setting sent memories spiraling through Sprx's mind, thoughts and recollections of his former friends... And the hurt in their eyes, the last thing Sprx remembered seeing.

He blocked them out by jumping over the edge, down into the Pit.

* * *

In a dive, Mandarin slashed viciously at the green monkey. He landed and rolled away, recovering from the high leap. A crooked smile crawled across his marred features when he looked over his shoulder. Otto lay on the ground, shivering and covered in grazes from both the rock and Mandarin's claws. His black eyes reflected the fear and pain that filled the air.

Pathetic.

Mandarin raised his arm, ready for the finishing blow. Otto winced, but met his cruel gaze.

There was a surprise attack from his side. Gibson had thrust his drill forward, coming to his comrade's aid.

"Try beating him _disarmed!_"

Surrounded by useless bone fragments, Mandarin screeched a final time and scurried (though it looked more like a frantic limp) away into the darkness closer to the pit's walls. Slumping inside a deep crevice in the rock, the mutilated simian almost allowed himself to relax. Almost. The battle wasn't over yet. Hopefully the witch and Sprx could manage without him; he wasn't much use without his claw.

The darkness _did_ seem to calm his frayed nerves, however. It always did…

The simian glanced at the shattered stump at the end of his left arm. He closed his eyes, forced down the sense of déjà vu (and the pang of anxiety that came with it) and hissed every curse he could create at the Hyper Force. He made an attempt to breathe evenly, but unadulterated rage swelled in his chest. Unarmed and outnumbered. Mandarin despised that feeling. He would make them all _pay_ once his Master returned.

But he would bide his time for now...

* * *

Valina had never seen herself as arrogant. She constantly strived to be humble; no one liked to have a conceited servant. It was simply not her place.

There hadn't meant to be a rush. The resurrection was meant to be a glorious moment of reverence. It was _meant_ to be the turning point of the era, when her master would rise again, when all her efforts would be acknowledged and rewarded.

The Master's first official act would be to eliminate the Hyper Force. This would make the vermin monkey very happy, and she would have the glorious satisfaction of watching them die. That would've been worth the trouble they had caused. The monkeys and the boy had turned it all into a race, a terrible race filled with frustration.

A blue and pink haze permeated the air, rolling across the ground like a bewitched fog. Sweet gladness filled her the way dark wine took over the souls of mankind. It was over for the little monkeys, they were _done-_

Evil had triumphed, and it rose from the pit like a sinister cloud.

Keeping with her status as modest servant, Valina fell at his feet, head bowed. "It was I who saved you from the Void, Master!"

His voice pierced through the air. Her arms shook as she kneeled, threatening to collapse under her body. Valina had never been so embarrassingly anxious in her life; she willed her body to regain control.

"_You have indeed, Skull Sorceress,"_ he rumbled. _"You deserve a significant reward for your service."_

Haltingly, she raised her head just high enough to look at him. His new form was dark, powerful...perfect. She ventured the smallest of smiles. _I beat you, Hyper Force._ The Skeleton King's voice rang through the pit.

"_You remained loyal through the hardships. I shall give you the greatest reward of all!"_

Valina closed her eyes, her secret smile widening just a bit. The air in the pit seemed to become heavier, anticipation weighing it down as if it was tangible. She was ever so humbled by his presence-

It was like nothing Valina had ever experienced. It started gradually, but took her by surprise. The pain diffused through her with unfathomable speed, but was at the same time excruciatingly slow. Each tiny section of her body tingled and blazed with pain, then the flesh next to it; the pain escalated everywhere it reached without pause. And it reached _everywhere._

Parts of her brain reawakened, all receiving the same signal from her body. The Skeleton King would not give simple _burning _or simple _cold, _or cut at your flesh. He punished you with the very essence of suffering.

_Hurts..._

She raised an arm to ward off the beam of red energy. She had never raised a hand against the Master before. Her head throbbed from within; she felt strangely dizzy.

_Must not cry out..._

Valina fell onto her back. Her eyes bulged, staring at the starless sky. From there the opening of the Pit of Doom looked tiny, just a hole. But what Valina saw was the deepest, blackest chasm in the universe. And she was falling into it.

_Master..._

The air felt cold, stabbing into her lungs. A scream soared away from her lips, reaching to the sky for far-off ears. Before the eyes of her worst enemies, Valina was ripped away, torn into pieces. All this happened in mere seconds.

_Why…?_

And then there was nothing.

* * *

A narrow trail twisted beneath the dead, gnarled trees. A dense fog hung in the air, and the trees slowly parted further down the path, giving way to a clearing; a bare patch amidst the surrounding foliage. The trees moaned as wind whipped through them, causing shadows to dance across the landscape. It was a place that seemed to haunt nightmares, yet didn't truly exist.

This was his prison.

He walked slowly across the desolate terrain. To the north, almost leaning against the trees in its age, was an old house; a large shack in its respects. The wood that it was made up of was rotten and molded, and the foundation looked ready to crumble. It was terrifyingly familiar to the forsaken soul that now treaded the ground to reach it, though despite the years he had spent trying to decipher why, the answer or memory of the aforementioned hovel eluded him. The only reason he even bothered to return was to try and un-puzzle the riddle that tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn't like he had anything better to do…

A ragged sigh would've passed his lips if he hadn't allowed himself to be numbed by his environment so long ago. He was too exhausted to care. Yet it wasn't normal exhaustion, it wasn't…_human_ exhaustion. His body didn't protest as he moved, didn't beg to be lain down, it simply felt…stale.

His fatigue lied mostly in his mind, however, and it plagued him. It was the kind of tiredness that came from the inability to sleep. He had tried multiple times to lay his body down, even if he _didn't_ need the rest, but he soon discovered he simply wasn't allowed to. His mind never stopped working as a result.

It was a troublesome burden to never stop thinking.

Perhaps that was his true torture, discrete as it was…

A sudden burning on his chest startled him. With renewed alertness he snatched at the amulet that had somehow remained around his neck for so long. His now sinewy fingers outlined the blackened gem in the middle. It wasn't really warm enough to burn him, though to his heat-drained body it seemed nearly scalding. Still, it was welcomed warmth nonetheless.

_The Circle…destroyed…?_

Indeed, the power of his amulet sensed its brothers and sisters being drained and scattered. The only reason the members of the Skeletal Circle would ever allow its power source to be disrupted like this was if it was a last resort…or if the Circle no longer existed.

_There's more…_

There had been another murder. While he felt the rest of the powers drain, one was nearly depleted. A member of the Circle was _dead…_

_That means their power has been scattered to the winds…_

The man's vigilance peaked at that point. How could he not have noticed this sooner? Maybe he _had_ been asleep…

He shut his eyes, trying to stifle his oncoming anxiousness, and focused his entire being on finding the source of the vanishing power. If he could _just_ find the connection between the amulets-

_This is your last chance…_

It was fading faster as the seconds ticked by, and his gut twisted.

Then his mind's eye spotted something…Was that-?

_Bingo._

Calling upon any power his spirit had managed to cling to, the man struggled to latch onto the object that may be his salvation, true weariness setting in as the outlines of his reality blurred.

_It's __**slipping**__…_

Growling with the feral aggression that stirred in his stubborn nature, he mentally made one final, angered lurch for the faraway object that taunted him.

_So close…_

He collapsed to his knees, his vision exploding in white, and felt his body go limp. He panted heavily, the exertion being more than he was used to. But a strained smirk slowly etched itself resolutely across his face.

A spiked pendant materialized in his hand…

The beginnings of a plan formed, and for the first time in years, Grimmlock laughed.

Such a shame it was going to be at other's expense…

* * *

Shadows consumed everything.

_I wonder how long it's been…_

The walls of the pit were steep. No way to climb in; no way to climb out if you survived the _fall_ in.

_I think…a year, maybe?_

Broken pieces of rock littered the bottom. What seemed like an age of terror and hopelessness lay strewn across the floor as well. But now, all was silent. No one bothered –or dared- come here anymore.

_Is it raining? I never can tell…_

It was, indeed raining, but the specter was viewing the world as one would through fogged up glass. Things were fuzzy and never had a distinct shape. Not that there was anything that _needed_ shape in the hole she was trapped in… She had attempted many times to escape from the pit before, but -put simply- it was not possible. She would take one step, a second, another- And then Valina would abruptly stop. She never _wanted_ to stop, but some unseen force did. Her limbs would lock, as if bound in iron. _She could not move._

Valina had stopped hoping long ago that the breath obscuring the glass would one day fade.

Evidently she couldn't exist outside the spot she'd drawn her last breath. Consequently, she had no idea what was happening outside said pit.

It was a year after her death, and Valina still had no idea who'd won the Great War.

The desire to pick something up and hurl it at something else out of frustration replayed in her mind. She wanted something to dent, to shatter, to explode. This was impossible, as she could neither grab something nor actually _throw_ it. She couldn't grasp or pick up a single thing, and she felt none of the elements she was exposed to. There was winter frost, the desert's twilight chill, and occasionally there was weak sunlight. Valina couldn't tell the difference.

The ex-witch laughed bitterly to herself. Feel the elements? Ha! She couldn't _feel_ at all!

_You're in a cage, and you can't get out. If you hadn't acted like such a love-sick BRAT you wouldn't be in this mess._

The ever-hated truth rang out in her head, and Valina then proceeded to bang on her temples with her fists and cover her ears, fruitlessly trying to block out the annoying little voice in her head that never seemed to take the hint to SHUT UP.

_The 'Master of Evil' and you expected him to actually _care_ about you? What did you hit your head on, dear girl?_

Fury and frustration bubbled up inside the young woman. With herself and her 'Master.' Where did he get the _nerve _to treat her like he did? All she ever did to him was lo-

_Did you actually expect _him_ to love someone as worthless as _you_?_

Valina **screamed. **As loud and as long as she possibly could. Both because it blocked out the voice and it was the only way to vent her feelings at this point. Besides, no one could hear her…she didn't see why she shouldn't take advantage of it…

The sorceress screamed until she lost her thin semblance of consciousness that drizzly night, drifting into the closest thing to sleep a doomed soul like her could have.

* * *

The walls in the cell were damp, and the air was so frigid the inhabitant's hands ached. Mandarin sat, huddled in the corner of the enclosed space. By a mere glance, it was impossible to tell if the occupant that sat curled up inside the small chamber was dead or alive.

A noise from outside the gate caused the creature's head to snap up. Growling venomously, the abomination slunk on all fours over to the barred door. He then rested on his haunches, his tail twitching agitatedly as he waited for his visitor.

When Mandarin first came to the prison he'd paid no attention to whoever came near his cell, preferring to remain lost in his inner musings. What remained of his dignity would not allow him to acknowledge his jailers. But as time passed, the monkey came to welcome changes in routine. He knew how to take advantage of them.

The guard that approached his cell was human, though a gun and what appeared to be a tazer could be seen on his hip. His eyes would dart about now and then, a sign he'd been doing his job a bit too well for a bit too long. He was carrying a tray that (upon extremely close inspection) had food placed on it.

"Feeding time, freak."

The man bent down to slide the tray through a slot and into the cell. The containers on the tray wobbled; the guard's fingertips slid the merest half-inch into the room beyond, pushing the tray far enough so the flap could close-

Half an inch was all that was needed.

The guard yelped loudly as the convict gripped his arm and yanked it through the slot, exposing another ten inches. Mandarin was biting and ripping into the soft tissue, trying his damndest to mutilate the appendage. The sensation of pointed teeth driving deep into his flesh was impossible for the guard to describe. Trying desperately to wrench his forearm out of the simian's clutches, the man felt at his hip for the tazer…

Mandarin shrieked as electricity coursed through his spindly frame, forcing him to release his victim and fold within himself in an attempt to ebb the pain. He knew it wouldn't work, as this had happened before (he was apparently this particular tazer-happy guard's favorite target) but he had to do _something_…

The guard stood up and (after inspecting his arm) glared furiously at the twitching creature that now lay in agony on the floor of his cell. Not wanting to risk another maiming, he spit at the injured prisoner and walked away cursing to himself.

Though slightly dazed the monkey was able to catch a tidbit of what the man was saying, something along the lines of: "…that rotten little bastard disfigured my arm! Let's see how the little asshole feels about having his rations yanked! That'll teach the lousy no good mother f…"

The guard's voice faded as he turned the corner (thankfully). Mandarin snarled in revulsion for the pitiful human. He'd been in other prisons. The wardens used to _fear_ him. Forcing himself up, the simian moved closer to his 'food' and nibbled on what he believed was supposed to be meat. If he wasn't getting anymore food it'd probably be in his best interest to eat what he had sparingly. He could survive without food, but he didn't care anymore. Starving would not bring death. At least while he lived he could cripple a few more guards.

He was unable to stop shaking, however, as the entire incident had thrust him into an uncontrollable rage. "Stupid human." he muttered to himself, trying to remain calm (another outburst would most likely attract more guards). "Stupid, horrible, awful, disgusting human…"

The undead simian felt his left hand twitch. That didn't surprise him; it usually acted up when he was upset about something.

_Master said I couldn't fight in his army without a weapon. So he…made one for me._

It was a stroke of genius for the bone lord, in a sense. Why come up with a new weapon when you could just copy one of your older, successful ones?

He created an appendage that mirrored the transforming hands of the Hyper Force. The main difference was this one had absolutely no cybertronic technology involved. It was constructed entirely of _Formless material_. The weapon resembled the technology found on the Monkey Team, except for the fact it was much more menacing in appearance and appeared to be made of bone.

It had the capability to morph between a hand and the monkey's previous crab-claw. The only issue was that after morphing to the claw, the monkey found it extensively painful to change it back. Apparently his nervous system hadn't completely accepted his new limb (as that was what the artificial 'attachment' had to tap into in order for it to work).

The twitching seemed to worsen the more he thought about it. Mandarin brought his hand up to his face and glared at it. It wasn't supposed to do this…

"Stop twitching," he commanded. It didn't. The monkey growled. "I said _stop it!_" The twitches suddenly evolved into jerking. Blackened digits clawed at the air. The simian's eyes widened in anger. Even his own _limbs_ were mocking him! A frenzied snarl contorted his face as his hand continued to jerk around. "I SAID STOP TWITCHING!"

A light crunching noise filled the air as Mandarin bit down on his hand as hard as he could. His bottom teeth sunk into his palm as his top dug into the back of his hand. Stabbing pain erupted from the spot, and the monkey smirked. _That_ should teach it for being so argumentative…

A peculiar liquid suddenly filled the simian's mouth, and it took him a moment to realize it was his blood.

After about a minute more Mandarin slowly removed his injured hand from his mouth. Black blood seeped from the deep incisions. He carefully clenched and unclenched his other clawed hand around the wound. Much to the monkey's dismay, he noticed it was still quivering. Tears of exasperated helplessness threatened to build behind his eyes but he squeezed them shut, refusing to appear defeated.

Mandarin then began licking his wounds, unable to think of what else to do and regretting being so aggressive.


	3. Resurrection

A moment of nervousness was usually predicted. _That _was the highest risk. Getting seen and caught could be dealt with, hiding physical evidence just as easy. The last part is simple, cleaning up the mess.

But before you can clear up the messy bits, you have to make the mess.

On the field, you are _not allowed_ to have second thoughts. When a man spends years in such thorough tutelage, he does not start considering on his first assignment the moral complexities of slitting a person's throat for money. They spent years teaching you how to fight it, the bloody damned human nature and moral compass. In essence, you learned how to think. You could learn how to get past a squadron of armed men in a week. But learning to kill is only half of learning how to assassinate.

When a man dons the black and straps the knife to his belt, he is not a man anymore.

Of course, a sharp blade is not the only weapon they give you. Slit throats are indeed traditional and somewhat reliable, but conspicuous and untidy. You save the knife till last.

* * *

He had his eyes closed, sitting in the very center of the cell with his legs hugged to his chest. He felt violently nauseous, a remnant side effect of the electrification. He could almost feel his blood moving sluggishly through his veins, while his head seemed as if it was cracking open bit by bit.

On days like this, Mandarin wished he was dead.

The aftertaste of blood was still on his tongue. There was a very unhappy guard somewhere out there, and that at least gave purpose to his existence, however senseless that purpose was. Existence didn't mean much anymore. He could feel the dried blood from his own hand between his teeth, bitter and smelling of- Well, Mandarin couldn't quite place it. A prisoner's mind forgets easily.

His left hand had stopped twitching, at least.

The hairs on his tail stiffened without warning. Cautiously, Mandarin raised his head and sniffed the air. His eyesight was still as acute as it had been a year ago, and never leaving your prison cell gave you a heightened sense of local goings-on. Something was out of place on this day.

There was no one anywhere near the door. No one had come in after the guard who had brought his food. The monkey swept his gaze across the floor. No shadows on the ground. His back arched a little, the bone plates grinding in protest. Fighting in wars felt very far away.

The grid was down. The bars weren't charged. Subtle, but extremely important. The monkey's brain was hit by a barrage of excited thoughts, his tail flicking back and forth in agitation.

There was more than one door directly outside Mandarin's cell. He supposed he should be flattered; they thought him to be deserving of high security. A clear wall of Perspex (Shuggazoomian scientist Milo Criv had changed the definition of 'plastic compound' by fusing together five different plastics for ultimate strength...Perspex was never the same after that, and Mandarin was often heard cursing the man's name) with air holes at the top and a flap down the bottom for food rations to come through, two meters of empty space, then a portcullis. Who knew what the broad, crisscrossing bars were made of; a fool mixes a few metals together and thinks he's a god for coming up with it. It looked archaic.

Perhaps that was a good thing. There was a narrow door in the lattice, secured only by an old-fashioned lock. So technologically primitive, it baffled even the most skilful of burglars.

Following the bars were more security measures. Thick doors that only opened after valid passwords, identity scans and swipe cards. Then there was a hallway, merely one length in a maze. The chances of finding the exit would be slim.

But Mandarin could worry about that later on. He had eyes only for the bars beyond the clear wall. They were usually charged with electricity to prevent him from picking the lock (if he ever reached it), and the guards had to turn it off to get food to him. The bars weren't charged now. He could tell. The air was heavy, dead. The atmosphere was stifling, and that only flared Mandarin's impatience to escape.

The partition of Perspex stood in the way. The wall had sensors placed in it; whenever the monkey tried to claw his way through a spurt of gas would seep into the room, or a hidden gun would shoot a beam of high voltage electricity at him. The guards occasionally changed the cartridge; they figured the bony little prisoner would want some variety. The wall sported a few broad scratches, but not many.

Up high in a corner, a closed eye slept. Mandarin destroyed the camera on his first day and was rather proud of that feat, and no man or woman dared to go in and replace it. They just hid the guns neatly away.

Mandarin had to take that chance now. This was an opportunity not to be ignored. If he failed, he failed. Things couldn't get any worse. He rose to his feet, crawling lithely on all fours to the wall. The monkey locked his gaze onto a small area of the plastic, taking in every detail. What lay behind the wall blurred in the monkey's vision, until he brought his right arm back for a swipe, gritted his teeth together until his jaw ached.

There was the thin shriek of his black claws against the plastic, then a mechanical whir as one of the guns gathered power.

Its aim was impeccable.

Mandarin turned his head in time to watch the beam splat against the Milo Criv's SuperPerspex. _Liquid ice today, _he thought. The faint memory of a fortress of some kind stirred, but the monkey shoved it away. He didn't have time for this.

His back ached from the hasty sideward tumble he had made, but it was better than getting frozen. There was a large, rough circle of paled plastic. Squinting, the monkey could see tiny spears of ice on the surface.

There was nothing left to do but to hit it very, very hard.

Almost unconsciously, the monkey's left hand slipped into its other form. Sparing only a cursory glance at the bulbous claw, Mandarin thrust it forward explosively. A warrior's thrust, a small remnant of his forgotten prowess. Cracks spread across the glassy expanse, like a spider's web growing before his eyes. Then the shards fell to the ground with a discordant tinkling. The first of fortifications had failed.

It had been a long time since Mandarin had grinned so wickedly.

Seconds were running to waste. Guards could come in at any moment. The monkey went on all fours and bounded over the shards. The cosmos would hear a loud shout indeed if the bars were suddenly charged again...

Mandarin slowed as he neared the bars. The air did not fizzle with energy; there was still time. This situation required careful thinking and careful actions. His thin tail arched upwards. With a glint in his eye, Mandarin turned his back to the door. He breathed in once, twice, and set to work.

The thin spike at the end of his tail stabbed into the keyhole. Mandarin closed his eyes in concentration. The muscles in his tail moved with subtlety and strength. The tool had to be thin enough, be in the right place... The monkey barely breathed his heartbeat slowing until he could hardly sense it. Mandarin ignored the headache. Even with his eyes shut he could sense the position of every tiny mechanism inside the lock. It was truly ancient in design. Perhaps he really was lucky.

Bone against metal. The armor of his body against the prison's defenses.

There was a quiet click as the lock in the door yielded, and the bony spike at the tip of Mandarin's tail was never taken for granted again.

_Fate is in my favor today._

A sound of grinding metal pierced through the monkey's silence, and a loud, rough voice shouting, "Shit!"

The simian pushed at the door, scurrying past the bars as the hinges squealed in protest. _Two down. _A guard stood between him and the final obstacle, the two heavy doors requiring passwords and swipe cards available only to the prison guards.

They were both open.

The guard had his right forearm in a white bandage, dotted with red.

The smile that crept onto the monkey's face was not a particularly pleasant one, by his standards. _Yes,_ Mandarin thought gleefully._ They are indeed in my favor._

"No way. This cell in inescapable! _Inescapable!_" He spread his legs apart, attempting to block the doorway. Mandarin expected the door to slide closed, but it didn't. He could see the corridor through it. Freedom stared him in the face.

"Get back in your cell, freak. I'll take it easy on you. There'll be more guys here in seconds and it'd look better if you were behind that door."

Mandarin took a moment to note –with some satisfaction- that the man was talking completely illogical gibberish.

_Fool. Babbling, idiotic fool._

The man's face twisted into an expression of loathing, but Mandarin detected a flicker of fear in his eyes. The fear grew as the guard watched the monkey crouch on all fours, slightly resembling a cat in his preparation to pounce, then dart forwards, running head on at him. The tazer at his belt felt suddenly heavy, a reminder to his panicked mind- He reached for it desperately.

Mandarin had been planning to swerve to the side and sprint past the guard's legs from the right, but with some shock saw the man abruptly collapse backwards. The thud of his body was a dull, muted one. The tazer clattered to the ground, the sound reverberating loudly in the small room. Maybe he had stunned himself with it. He was truly more stupid than Mandarin had expected.

Without slowing the monkey leapt clear over the fallen form, claws clicking against the slick floor beyond. Primal adrenaline surged through Mandarin's limbs, the breath whistling through his lungs. His left crab-like claw made him unbalanced and he bumped against the opposite wall as he tried to turn down the hallway outside his cell. No time to change it back...

The collision with the wall had been hard, however. Pain exploded from his shoulder and spots appeared in his vision. Mandarin hadn't had much exercise in the past months. With considerable shame he acknowledged in a corner of his mind that he had weakened. The monkey scuttled along the wall for a few meters, breath hissing between his teeth. No guards poured from the doors in the hallway. It was deserted, save for the small monkey dragging himself along the narrow hallway, gradually accumulating speed.

Amid the shadows, a glitter of deep purple caught Mandarin's eye as he crawled. It was lying flat on the ground. A dark jewel set in a black pendant. The dim lights illuminated the large stone. It _gleamed_ at him.

It was swiped for with the claw. Within moments it was gripped between the fugitive's pointed teeth, running along the corridors of the prison.

An unseen specter grinned maliciously. _"Finally."_

At the entrance to Mandarin's cell, the guard on the ground coughed once softly, and then was quiet.

* * *

The man put his gun back in its holster and nodded admiringly at his own work. Those new bullets were _good._ Not that he'd ever admit it to the inventor; he'd never hear the end of it. But the new bullets _were _pretty useful. No one would ever find it and trace it. If they didn't examine the body, they wouldn't even realize that the guard had been shot. Invisible bullets, he had nick-named them. The one he had fired had melted away in the flesh. There wasn't even that much blood, but he would wipe the floor just in case. It's a matter of principal.

In addition, his aim had been flawless. As usual.

On second thought, he wouldn't clean the blood off the floor. The body looked better where it lay. It would seem as if the monkey had taken the guard out himself. There was a rather convenient scratch on his cheek, where one of the spikes on the monkey's tail had presumably grazed him. They'd notice the fierce red line before the hole in the back of the jacket.

Job well done.

The figure stole back into the hallway, looking left and right. No other guards. Obviously. With long, purposeful strides he made his way back to the location he had chosen. Who knew if the monkey came this way, and it wasn't a job well done until the last stage was completed.

In the privacy of his own mind, the assassin wondered who had asked the job to be done. He was never told the identity of the client until after the job had been finished, but this was one of the strangest assignments he had had in years. No, it was definitely the strangest. Help a little monkey out of jail? And then there was that little necklace he had been given...

The figured slowed his pace, coming to a stop at the precise location he remembered putting it down.

The black amulet was gone.

Squatting, the man could see where the monkey had stopped, where his hand had picked it up. It looked more like a long claw of some kind, though...

_Job well done, _he thought to himself. And with a ruffle of his coat, he left the prison silently.

* * *

Mandarin began to slow as the adrenaline wore off. He finally stopped completely, both having spent most (if not all) of his energy and concerned that the clicking of his claws on the cold floor would draw attention to his escape efforts. Still no guards. No alarms. The doors he passed were closed. In fact, Mandarin had never seen any other inmates. Was he, like in the HOOP, the only prisoner?

But flattery had little effect on the sad figure these days.

His small chest was heaving. He allowed the amulet to fall from his mouth onto the floor as he knelt on his knees and panted. The monkey stared into the gem of the pendant as he did so, half expecting a face to appear inside it as it had over a year ago.

Nothing but blackness and emptiness stared back at him.

The simian rolled over so he was leaning against the wall, gingerly picking up the amulet to examine it. Confusion seeped into his already aching mind. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't understand why the object had been simply lying on the floor of the prison. Likewise, he couldn't figure out what had possessed him to _pick it up._

The pendant flashed suddenly, a line of light moving across its facets, causing the monkey to jump and throw the cursed item away from him. It slid across the ground, scraping loudly against the metal.

The amulet glinted on the ground, and the sense of terrible foreboding that rose within the monkey was almost enough to make him quake in horrified reverence. Despite this, he was unable to take his eyes off the trinket.

A faint whisper suddenly brushed his ear. A breath, a susurration on the border of comprehension. Mandarin's head snapped up, his eyes turning into slits as he anxiously glanced from side to side as he searched for whatever had murmured to him. Nothing but silence met his efforts. He was completely alone. Red pupils traversing up and down the corridor, Mandarin saw no other life. It was as if a hand had swept the pieces off the chessboard, and all that remained was a single piece.

That piece was Mandarin, but his path was not yet known.

Sound slipped into his acute hearing once again, and this time Mandarin visibly tensed as he furiously searched the surrounding area for the culprit. The noise was low, like the hiss of a snake, but incoherent words seemed to lie just beneath the whisper.

The monkey closed his eyes in an attempt to locate the sound by ear alone. The hiss grew louder and boomed through his head, terrifyingly intense. His eyes shot open again.

A shiver threatened to creep up and down his spine.

The undead simian gradually began to grasp where the noise was coming from, and froze. The monkey slowly turned his head to look directly in front of him, and his mouth went dry.

It was coming from the amulet.

"…_the pit…"_

Mandarin didn't dare breathe as words suddenly became noticeable. The terrible object began to glow. The pale light it produced seemed ice cold; yet the wall behind and the floor around it blackened, overcome by darkness.

"…_Go to the pit…"_

A vague shadow seemed to flow up from the dark gem. It took on a vaguely human shape. It had no eyes to speak of, but Mandarin knew it was looking directly at him. The shade slowly extended what appeared to be its arm, outstretching its finger and beckoning for the monkey to come closer.

"_Come…"_

Every bone in the simian's thin frame was telling him to run as far away as he could get from the evil pendant and whatever the creature coming out of it was. What added to the monkey's earlier confusion, however, was that he _wasn't_ running away.

_He was creeping towards it._

The pull was unbreakable. The shadow-creature hovered menacingly over the pendant, the whisper still barely audible, but still clearly there; still piercing the silence…

"…_to the pit…"_

Mandarin fought desperately to regain control of himself as his hand reached for the amulet…

"_Take me to the pit…"_

The simian's claws wrapped around the medallion, and his whole body jerked and tensed before finally going limp. The life in the monkey's eyes dulled as he exhaled shakily.

"_Take me…"_

The monkey then continued his way down the hall. But this time, he had no choice. This time…he was being _led_. Those two words of the creature's command echoed and repeated themselves in his brain, a smoldering brand on Mandarin's consciousness. _Take me, take me, take me, take me..._

In a place that didn't exist, with an old, crumbling house, one lone man cackled maniacally.

* * *

The stars _should have_ gleamed that night. The sky was completely clear, but for some reason the stars refused to twinkle down at the inhabitants of Shuggazoom. To the citizens, it was simply a strange abnormality; something that would be noticed and forgotten. To someone else, it was a sign.

A skeletal monkey sped through the outskirts of Shuggazoom, having long escaped the maze of hallways in the prison. But Mandarin's mind was in a haze. He had the feeling of one who had awoken partially from sleep, when part of the dream had collided and meshed into the real world, and it was impossible to tell the two apart. The simian found in his foggy state of mind that it was just as impossible to be sure if he was having a nightmare or actually running. His vision blurred in his dream-like state, as did his thoughts and feelings, making him feel dazed and bleary.

"_Keep looking…"_

Like everything else, Mandarin wasn't sure if the voice that spoke to him –_commanded_ him- was a reality or a figment of his imagination. He slowed to a pause, sniffing the air for what he was looking for, and, catching a scent, (which seemed strangely familiar to the monkey, even if everything else in his world was obscured and unfocused) continued on his way.

The desert, scattered with sharp rocks, sped under his paws. The simian travelled across the rough terrain a while longer before stopping abruptly. Not that he had a choice…

Mandarin was standing on the edge of the Pit of Doom.

He then slowly began his descent.

* * *

The witch stirred from her semi-unconscious state. The night previous she had spent shrieking until her mind fled to the void, unable to cope with the thoughts and turmoil that haunted her. She hadn't found the will to get up, so she had spent the day mentally drifting between Shuggazoom and the aforementioned void. It was black, dreary, and constantly silent there.

But something pricked within her now. Valina sensed a familiar presence in her dank little trench (she called it her trench now; it was _her_ grave, therefore it was _her _trench). And that presence was powerful.

The prickle under her skin turned into a crawl when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. It was on the other end of the pit, and the witch had to squint to try and make out what it was. It seemed to creep closer, making her job a tad easier. It was small, no taller than three feet (though this was an estimate, as it was currently crouched on the ground), and it appeared to be terribly thin. Something nagged and gnawed at her in the back of her mind, but the sorceress was unable to place just what it was…

Until she noticed the color.

Through the blurry vision she'd become accustomed to, Valina saw a speck of orange on an obscure body of ivory white.

The witch almost reeled back as sheer shock (mixed with touch of disgust and contempt) washed over her.

_Mandarin?_

Valina felt her body begin to twitch. The miserable creature that had somehow found his way into her resting place wasn't what was causing her current reaction, she realized. The sorceress noticed then with considerable confusion that the monkey was beginning to glow. She squinted again, trying to get a clue as to what was causing the anomaly. She decided after a few seconds that it wasn't _him_ that was glowing; it was…something around his neck-

An amulet. A spiked amulet.

Valina's whole body stiffened. How did _he_ get a hold of her amulet? And why was she having this reaction? A thought dawned on the witch, and she froze.

_I'm still connected to it._

Her power wasn't gone... The Skeleton King hadn't destroyed it as he did her body. _That _was why she hadn't simply died…!

The witch threw a sideways glance to a black smear on the ground. If he Mandarin was to use her pendant in such close proximity to her spirit and remains…

A new purpose breathed life into the undead-sorceress: she had to force Mandarin to use the power of the amulet.

The monkey stumbled forward towards the witch, and Valina pounced.

* * *

The monkey's feet lightly made contact with the Pit's floor as he jumped the last four or five feet down. Mandarin's body moved with strength and confidence, making it impossible for anyone to tell that the monkey was not in control of his actions. He was running blind, a temporary servant to another's demands.

Far away, a man smirked, and loosened his grip of control on the wretched abomination, slipping into the recesses of his victim's mind. Everything was going according to his plan, and all the pawns were in place. All that was left was to sit back and enjoy the show…

* * *

Mandarin blinked slowly as awareness returned to him. Glancing around, he deduced that he was no longer in the prison. This disturbed him to an extent, because he couldn't _actually _remember exiting… What was even more troubling was that he had absolutely _no idea_ where he was currently.

He crawled forward, still trying to orient himself. From the large pillars of greyish rock surrounding him, he assumed he as in a canyon of some sort, maybe a large crevice-

"_Take me to the pit…"_

Mandarin shivered in disbelief. Dreamlike memories invaded his mind. Well, maybe they weren't so dreamlike…

_Ba-bump_

A blinding light slowly leaked from the amulet on the monkey's chest, both reminding him of its presence and eventually rendering his vision useless.

Mandarin rubbed his eyes, trying to rid the unwanted brightness from them, before hesitantly continuing forward. His claw scraped against the dusty ground, dragging alongside him.

_Ba-bump_

Mandarin stiffened at the noise. He didn't need to look to try to find where the sound had come from.

_Ba-bump ba-bump_

It was a heartbeat.

_Ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump_

And it was beating rapidly in his head.

_Ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump_

…But it wasn't his…

_Ba-__**bump**_

He never saw it coming.

The amulet flashed again and Mandarin shrieked as the pain enveloped his body. Something was clawing at him, both internally and externally. Something was _angry_…

The monkey froze within when he realized that he _knew _this pain. He'd _felt _this pain. He'd been _**tortured**_ with this pain…

All for the whereabouts of a skull.

Mandarin growled with the primal fury that surged through him, and he hissed out a single word:

_**Valina**_.

Once more shadows erupted from the amulet's jewel, but this time they emerged in a snake-like form. They individually wrapped themselves around the simian's body, searing every spot they touched, making him fall to the ground and writhe where he lay; swiping fruitlessly at the air, trying to fend off his attackers.

His vision was blurring with agony. Through the pain he saw a female's shadowy form compile from his many assailants. He didn't need crystal-clear vision to know whose shadow it was…

_No…_

He felt his arms being pushed towards his chest; his hand was being made to reach for something…

_I will not lose to her __**again**__…_

He screamed again, and with every ounce of will-power he possessed tore his limbs from the spell that was taking over him. Rolling over, he used his claw and palm to push himself up to his feet and made a frenzied sprint to the pit's wall. He in all honesty had no idea what was happening but he obstinately refused to allow it to go so much as one step further.

Mandarin felt something collide with him from behind and tackle him to the ground. His face met the rough floor and he hissed in pain as blood flowed forth, but made another attempt to get back up. He was firmly held down this time, and the torment tripled.

The monkey screeched and clawed desperately at the ground, struggling to fight the power that was now dragging him backwards. The shallow furrows his fingers made in the dirt amounted to nothing. Blackness encompassed his vision, and he felt himself being forcibly rolled onto his back. Mandarin screamed wildly and thrashed around trying to free himself once again. Once more he felt his arms move. The pain grew unbearable and threatened to rip him into pieces.

The simian's strength waned under the pressure of the spell. It became obvious he needed to break its concentration soon; he couldn't last much longer under the duress. If he could just relax for a _second_…

The agony peaked at that moment, and Mandarin's control slipped.

A clawed hand shot to the amulet, and a mauve beam illuminated the lifeless night.

A hideous cackle of rebirth shattered the silence of the evening, and Mandarin's entire body went limp in frustrated defeat.


	4. Vicissitudes

From his position on the ground, Mandarin watched as the witch seemed to materialize from the dark abyss. Certain aspects of her appearance were different than when last he saw her. For instance, the two tresses on top of her head had vanished, apparently replaced by the two strands of hair that now framed her face. The lower pigtails remained, though the locks at the end resembled tendrils now more than they did hair. Almost like ghostly _fingers..._ Her dress had changed as well, a short shawl-like thing now covering her shoulders, with strange sleeves that started in the middle of her forearm and widened downwards past her hands. A brown belt rested on her hips, bearing a skull buckle. The bottom of her pitch-colored dress was trimmed in a ghastly silver, and a likewise silver cape rested around her neck. Slowly the monkey realized the witch was levitating towards him…

The skull sorceress's hand curled into a fist.

Valina let a smile grace her features. It was of the sinister kind. Her elbow jutted into the air, and then her fist slammed into the monkey's jaw. There was a muted scream of pain and surprise. Slim arms flying with punches and swipes, Valina grinned and laughed to herself. Mandarin's bone armor grazed her knuckles; he looked too weak to defend himself, almost small; the sorceress _savored_ it.

For the first time in a black eternity, she could feel. And rushing back to fill her, the giddy sensation of holding dominion over someone. A vicious right hook punch to the orange monkey's chin sent his eyes rolling back in his head.

Valina was no longer powerless.

She laughed darkly as she felt her clawed fingertips dig into him, eyes shining in the dim light. But all in all, hammering the simian with her fists was much more satisfying. The empty sky watched the two figures in the pit, one straddling the other and beating him to a pile of pulpy flesh and bone. Valina's knuckles were now sore and red, Mandarin's jaw swollen. His arms lay limp by his side, and from time to time he let out a moan of pain. The monkey's head jerked from side to side with each strike. Valina continued to cackle to herself.

The amulet had stopped glowing and it now lay on the dirt close by. Its chain was unbroken, as if it had simply yielded and passed through Mandarin's neck. The witch ignored it for the time being.

Minutes dragged on as the beating continued. Occasionally the witch would miss the monkey's jaw and her fist would make hard contact with his ribs. A crack was heard as this happened, and the sorceress chuckled sadistically as she noticed the grimace that crossed his face.

While Valina's shoulders were beginning to tire (weaknesses return with strengths), Mandarin seemed to regain willpower as sheer frustration took hold of him. With an explosive kick the monkey slid across the dirt, his tail snaking along the chalky ground as he did so. Mandarin was now out of the witch's reach. Her left fist slammed into the ground, dirt getting into her cuts.

Mandarin lay panting on the floor, bruised and shaken by his beating, wheezing quietly. After a moment's rest he got to his knees and, without taking his eyes off the black figure in front of him, rose with difficulty. A trickle of watery black blood leaked out of Mandarin's mouth.

"_What_ was _that_ for?" the monkey spat roughly.

Valina appeared to be unperturbed by Mandarin's escape from her clutches. She too, rose, the dark folds of her robe falling around her like a shroud made from shadows. The sorceress stared calmly at the monkey, who was struggling to take on a fighting stance, though his body protested vehemently. She flexed her fingers casually; no emotion could be seen on her face. There was simply an intense calmness in her gaze.

"Why Mandarin, I was just saying hello."

The cold greeting sank in the air.

The calm vanished from her features in an instant as vicious delight took its place. The witch swiftly raised her hand to the monkey, and a pink whip-like flame erupted from her palm. The simian in front of her choked in shock (and a possible twinge of fear) as it wrapped itself around his neck and jerked him off his feet back over to where Valina was standing.

Unable to gain back his balance as he was yanked over to the female, Mandarin landed on his knees in front of her (something that struck him harder than anything at that point, if only for the symbolism of it), still clawing at the magic bond around his neck.

A smug expression crossed Valina's face as she gazed down at her captive. "But enough of the formalities… I actually do have a few things I would like to discuss with you…"

The witch extended her other hand in the direction of the -nearly forgotten- amulet. It levitated into her grip weightlessly, and once again gave off a faint glow.

"But I would like to take this conversation somewhere a little more…'comfortable.'"

The pendant flashed, and both figures were gone.

* * *

The house looked perfectly ordinary.

The girl, in her tight-fitting woolen jumper, looked perfectly ordinary.

The man with snowy white hair looked perfectly ordinary.

The car they both stepped into, however, _was_ perfectly ordinary.

The interior of this car smelled faintly of strawberries. It was the polishing agent they had used on the dashboard, but this artificial, happy scent was offset by a second. It was the combination of rusty old metal and the reek of smoke.

"You're not wearing the skirt."

The young woman hung her head, but that was the only part of her that moved. Her ankles were pressed against each other, both feet flat on the floor, hands folded in her lap. Even in her sleep, you couldn't hear her breathe. "Must I, Father?"

"It's once a week I ask you to put on nice clothes."

"Father...you know what I think of impractical apparel." The girl turned her head to the side –so slowly and at such a small angle that your eyes would not register it- to look back at the house. She briefly entertained the thought of going back in to change to please her father. Weeds grew at the edges of the tiny footpath, although there was no front lawn. The spindly, grey plants formed a great mass, climbing and growing over each other in a bid for space and sunlight. If ignored, they would one day conquer the entire path, which was not large at all. Small victory, but one after many years of toil.

The house itself was only one of many on the street, and they all looked almost identical. The only difference was the range of different curtains and shutters that framed the windows and the degree of effort the tenants had made to cut back the weeds that fought the concrete borders. The façades of the houses were all white. Once upon a time, when living space was plentiful on planet Shuggazoom, there would have been flowerpots in front of the doors and even –farfetched it may seem- small lawns of lush green grass.

"I get enough chastising from Mother about clothes," she murmured. The voice was quiet but clear, the words well-pronounced. There was a tense stillness in the car for a moment, then, "It's eleven o'clock already." It was a casual remark, a soft exclamation of surprise. "_Tempus fugit._ Time flies, Father."

The engine started, rumbling into action. "I'll let it slide," said the white-haired man.

The morning sunlight threw broad lines across the young woman's legs. The car was making its way through the city, heading east; occasionally a hover-car (no doubt the reckless only child born to ridiculously wealthy parents was at the wheel) passed overhead. If you had perhaps seen this car as it drove past, you might have thought to yourself, "There goes another family doing the weekend shopping."

Of course, no passerby notices cars heading east (or in any other direction for that matter, excluding 'straight towards oneself'), and for anyone to think such a thought is extremely rare. The citizens of Shuggazoom have a unique world. They are each wrapped up in their own.

The journey was made in silence, for father and daughter did not like to talk about _trivial_ matters; "What did you do at school today?" had not been asked for years. The young woman had finished tertiary education some time ago, though her face was of a child. Pale skin and soft lips, but a high forehead that exuded intelligence and eyes that looked right through you. Sometimes the eyes ignored you, sometimes they saw into every crevice of your being.

Eventually the car slowed, the man making a sharp turn into a medium-sized car park.

Just beyond the car park, a small cemetery.

The doors of the car made an ugly noise as they closed. The paths between the rows of graves were narrow, barely three feet across, the headstones at knee height. But that was on the older side of the cemetery. The pair made their way to the northern section, where urns and jars and ornate boxes sat side by side on shelves of grey stone.

It was Shuggazoom's great filing cabinet of death.

In an attempt to lighten the bleak atmosphere, jacaranda trees had been planted on two borders of the cemetery. Lilac flowers dotted the ground, silvery raindrops balanced on their petals. No one ever took the time to admire this beauty.

The man and young woman walked for a time, following the track amid the shelves. Names blurred as they walked past until one little vase looked familiar to them.

'_Diana Benedict'_ was the name engraved into its surface. For certain this woman had been born and named Diana, but it always pained her to think that her surname was not real.

There was a glass panel that closed the shelves to the elements, and the man slid it across. Two red tulips were placed onto the shelf next to the vase. The girl sat cross-legged down on the grass. Her father joined her.

The two closed their eyes, breathing slowly. Darkness was all they saw, until a white shape appeared on the black background. It waved and flickered like a flame, then grew in size.

You could say that it was getting closer.

"_Hello, Mother,"_ the girl said in greeting.

A face came into focus at the top of the wisp of white. It was smiling gently, dark eyes shining with contentment. _"Morning, darling. Oh Theodore, what gorgeous flowers."_

"_I know they're your favorite," _he answered.

"_Actually, purple orchids are my favorite but I appreciate it all the same," _the face said. It would be safe now to call it a ghost. _"Why, it's been..._nine_ whole days since you two have visited! Regale me with stories, darling."_

The young woman didn't hesitate when she said, _"There's not much to tell."_

The ghost of her mother sagged. _"Your stupid father's still teaching you that talking idly is a security risk, isn't he?" _she accused sulkily.

"_Not teaching, Mother. I learned it ages ago. Millions can die at a single word, you know."_

The white face turned to her husband. _"Still having her work in the family business, are you?"_

"_She enjoys it," _Theodore countered. _"It pays well. She's very good at it."_

The ghost sighed, tendrils of white flailing slowly in the gloom. _"I kept saying, I kept saying it, that girls of your talents should not be out at undignified hours of the night sliding knives between some poor man's ribs..."_

"_And you still say it, Mother," _the girl replied calmly. _"Don't worry. I couldn't be happier doing anything else."_

"_See?" _her father said._ "She likes it, and her skills are _excellent._ What would you have her do, Diana?"_

The ghost thought quickly. _"Well, our daughter wouldn't be out murdering people, I know that! I'd have liked her to have nice, stable profession. Perhaps Law or Medicine. Science would be very exciting!"_

The young woman groaned loudly. _"Mother, _everyone_ wants their children to go into Law or Medicine or Science. It's so...so _dull!_"_

"_Her gifts would go to waste," _Theodore added. _"Ever since she came into the business, I've been enjoying work more and more."_

"_It's unnatural, it is," _the ghost retorted. _"By the way, Theodore, love...didn't you always say that to enjoy killing is the first sign that it's not the right job for you?"_

"_No I didn't."_

The white woman began to laugh, showing her teeth. _"You're a good liar, I'll give you that. But I've got a memory that never fails." _She paused for a long moment. _"I've got a slight dizzy spell just now. Feeling a bit lethargic... Darling, you're not siphoning again, are you? Don't give me that look, I know you are!"_

The girl bowed her head meekly, releasing her grip. Two smoky wisps of the darkest black color sprung back to her mother's form like springs. _"Sorry, Mother. Just testing you."_

"_Well, we dead people need all the dark energy we can get! How do you expect us to haunt without enough energy?" _She softened at her daughter's ashamed look, though a part of her told her that it was the usual ruse. _"Look, go steal some off old man Buckley, all right? He's been muscling in on my shelf space all week; I can't stand the bloke! Take all the dark energy-whatsits you need, both of you. Can't have all three of us feeling weak and lethargic, can we?"_

The young woman showed her canines in a sly smile. _"Certainly, Mother. The urn to the left, isn't he?"_

Theodore Benedict didn't say anything, but sneaked a handful of black energy strings away silently.

"_Love, I think I've got a call," _he said after a while. _"I can feel the phone vibrating from here."_

His wife stuck out her lower lip. _"Must you go so soon? I was getting forward to hearing the news. Well... On second thought, I don't think I'm that interested in knowing who my daughter killed two days ago, so you can go. Give me a kiss, darling." _The white shape moved forward and received a quick kiss on the cheek from her daughter. It was a cold, tingling sensation.

She watched her family fade slowly, then vanished into the gloom herself.

The white-haired man hung up on his mobile phone. "That was Mercury," he told his daughter. "He'll be back at the house for a debriefing in twenty minutes."

The young woman got up from her sitting position and stretched. "Oh, so he's finally not incompetent?"

"The prison assignment has been carried out to perfection, he says." He stuck his hand into his jacket pockets, walking back to the car.

"And you believe him, Father?" the girl said as she fell into step beside him.

"The important thing is that the client is satisfied, Atalanta."

"I know, Father, but still. Mercury's not the best. He's so full of himself."

"He's got a good aim and a taste for elegance. And remember to be humble, Atalanta."

"Very well, Father."

The lilac jacaranda flowers were crushed silently underfoot.

"Father-"

"Yes?"

"Did Mercury say anything about my new bullets?"

* * *

His office was very large and very simple. Not a scrap of paper was on the desk. The fates take pity on him if he was ever that careless. Security and discretion was vital in his profession.

Theodore flicked through a folder. With a red pen in his hand, he scribbled in the corner of a page. Then he reached down and opened a drawer-

"_I am impressed. A bit."_

His shoulders hunched involuntarily. It was a voice unlike any other, cold and sharp. Reeking of death. Nevertheless, Theodore cleared his throat and spoke as if he would to any other client of his business. "I try to keep the customers happy."

"_Your employees seem to be exceptional. You appear to be very successful in this field of business, my friend."_

"I'm not meant to be on friendly terms with clientele," the man replied smoothly, gathering the papers and straightening them out. The papers banged against the varnished desk deafeningly. Like a gunshot. "They're despicable, cowardly bastards who stoop appallingly low to have certain people out of the way."

"_Touché."_

"And you're lying about my employees and success, simply flattering me." In truth he couldn't be sure about his client's honesty, but it is wise in general not to trust invisible men that speak in your mind.

The snake-like voice laughed, a rasping chuckle that was not dissimilar to the sound of dead leaves brushing against rusted metal. The old man raised his head, unblinking. There was no one seated in the opposite chair. He wasn't wearing colored contacts today, and the white wig had been replaced in the hidden closet along the wall. Black locks hung around his temples and were streaked with thin lines of grey. The man had crows' feet, but his dark brown eyes were still clear.

"Cut the small talk," he commanded.

"_Very well. You shall receive payment when the second stage is completed. A significant sum, enough so that all members of your extended family can each spend millions a year, for a dozen generations."_

"Another lie."

The voice huffed. _"Have you no humor, sir? I have not forgotten the terms so quickly. The Skeleton King will be resurrected for you in return for your service. I know where his remains are and how it can be done."_

The voice was lying.

Theodore Benedict suspected this. Doubt was in his nature, like the magma at the very bottom of a volcano, and Theodore remarked, "The Hyper Force did a damn good job of finishing the Master off..."

"_And you're suffering for it, aren't you?" _the invisible voice hissed. _"Ever since the day you were cast out. You and your daughter are forced to siphon what you need from deceased spirits! How degrading, how shady, how __**shameful...**__"_

The old man narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the armrest of his chair. "You know I don't believe a word of what you say about the Skeleton King," he growled.

"_But you hope, don't you, Cadel?"_

The man in the chair said nothing at all. His nostrils flared for the briefest of moments, his eyes filling with a flame of rage.

The speaker took on a cruel, mocking tone. _"That was your downfall; you dared to hope that what I was saying was true. And it got you into trouble again. You should have left that amulet alone, Cadel. But no, you thought for a second that maybe another one of the Skeletal Circle was still alive! That maybe one of the stones hadn't been destroyed yet! You __**hoped!**__" _it spat.

"_And you didn't know that I could take control of you just from there."_ It cackled again. _"Too late, your man was on his way to the prison by the time you regained your senses. You've taken the first step, Cadel. And you shall slide down the rest of the slope. The old world will fall around you. You can walk into the new world when it is built, Cadel. But the fall is there no matter what."_

Cadel groaned, his chin falling to his chest. The voice continued to shout inside his head, sneering with an air of endless malice. A sharp throbbing began at his temples.

The voice at last started to fade, becoming softer. But Cadel knew it would only return.

"_And I'll be waiting at the bottom."_

* * *

Mandarin felt a burning sensation eat at his chest as he tried to breathe. He felt as if he was inhaling flames, and he coughed deeply in an attempt to rid himself of the feeling. All it did was set his throat ablaze. The monkey gagged quietly as his tonsils swelled in pain, and felt his vision cloud over with an invisible ash.

Then came the pain. A smoldering, slow pain that crawled underneath his armor and spread up and down his body, attacking him as wildfire attacks dry leaves…

The monkey could not scream. His throat was too dry and his voice too weak. The anguished sound that escaped his lips was a low, shaky yell, only occasionally hitting the pitches of a shriek when the pain became too intense.

Valina lowered her hand, and the simian's torment yielded.

Mandarin lay panting on the floor of the witch's temple, refusing to look at the sorceress. He allowed his eyes to lose focus as he stared into the flame of a nearby candle, one of the only sources of light in the room.

No living being for miles around, and if there were Mandarin would not get any aid from them. No one to hear his screams and yelps of pain.

Except _her._

There was a tense silence before the monkey finally spoke, his voice hoarser than usual, "I'm not pledging loyalty to you, Witch. I don't care _what_ you do to me. I will _not_ sink to such a low."

Valina had appeared slightly bored with the situation at hand, but the corners of her lips now curled up into an amused smirk. "You said practically the same thing when I wanted the location of the Skeleton King's skull, remember?" the smirk deepened, "I broke you then… I'll break you now."

Mandarin forced a shrug, determined to keep an air of apathy around himself. A lunatic's final defense. He didn't justify her comment with a retort.

Secretly, the simian knew he couldn't stand much more of this. He was exhausted -both mentally and physically- from trying to fight his way away from the witch as she attempted to resurrect herself, and he still ached from the beating she'd given him…

The witch turned to stare at her hand, still smirking, and flexed and un-flexed her fingers. "And last time…all it _took _to break you…was _**this**_…" The hand the sorceress had been inspecting shot out, a violet beam shooting out from the palm and enveloping the crippled simian.

No amount of exhaustion or weariness could stop the monkey from screaming.

When Mandarin opened his eyes, his insides twisted. His environment was foul and bright colored, and the walls that surrounded him were moist and soft, and _warm_.

A living tomb.

The monkey shook his head, trying to convince himself that what he stared at in wide-eyed horror wasn't real. "No- This cannot be...!"

Fear shot through him as he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. The thing slithered towards him with such speed the simian didn't have time to move. It collided with him, tackling him to the ground, fighting to mangle the mutated wretch.

Terrified, Mandarin used his claw to throw the thing off. Once free the monkey scuttled backwards, bile threatening to creep up his throat. "No…no…no…"

Mandarin had never feared death. A thought crept into the forefront of his mind, temporarily elbowing past his anxieties regarding the horrific beasts. The notion itself was terrible to his weathered mind. The monkey may not fear death, but-

_She does not intend to kill me. _

Several more creatures slunk from their hiding places, and the monkey let out a horrified squeak as several slimy tendrils grabbed at his torso from behind. Ripping himself from the thing's clutches, Mandarin turned to run…

More tentacles lurched forward, bringing him to the ground. The creatures were upon him the moment the monkey hit the moist floor. Teeth ripped into him as the things tore at his limbs, trying to separate them from his body. Mandarin screamed in terror as he squirmed to get away from the creatures. Blood spurted from his wounds and their splatters were canon shot in the monkey's ears.

_Make it stop,_ a voice begged in his mind. _Do whatever it takes to make it __**stop**__…_

The simian felt a ripping pain in his arms and legs as they began to detach from his body…

"_**FINE!**_"

The horrors vanished with the monkey's bellow, and he was once again on the floor of Valina's temple.

The witch hovered over the monkey triumphantly. Her command was simple, brief, and harsh.

"Say it."

Mandarin gulped, and then recited through gritted teeth: "I pledge my undying loyalty to you, Valina. I will do whatever you ask of me until my last breath."

The sorceress let out a low cackle at her victory, and a part of the monkey died that moment.


	5. Assassins and Partial Vengeance

It's peculiar how darkness can unnerve the victim of its choosing, no matter who that victim may be. It's peculiar in a similar sense how being alone can create a feeling of hopelessness, even if the subject prefers to be alone. Combine the two and you have a very unfortunate combination.

This meant Mandarin was in a very unfortunate _situation_.

For whatever reason the simian found himself in a pitch-black…_area_. The monkey was reluctant to call where he was a room, as he couldn't find a wall in any direction no matter how far he walked, and the floor just felt…hard.

"Mandarin Clone…"

The aforementioned clone jumped at the raspy voice that sounded behind him, but after recognizing the voice allowed a small, rare smile to spread across his visage as he turned to face the speaker.

"Master…"

Oddly, the bone lord was as clear as day in the all-encompassing darkness, every detail illuminated by some unseen light. On some levels the simian wondered why his master had specified he was a clone. He never had before… But the relief at the sight of his creator pushed this minor confusion to the back of his mind.

Mandarin started towards the large skeleton. "Master! Thank the Citadel of Bone! I'd thought the Hyper Force had-"

The monkey was cut off by a harsh glare. "_Traitor._"

The simian stopped dead in his tracks and stared incredulously at the accusation. "W-what?"

Skeleton King ignored the stammer and took a step forward. "Did you think I wouldn't find out, you pathetic replica? Did you think you wouldn't be _punished_?"

Mandarin noted vaguely that he was beginning to lose feeling in his legs. He knew his master felt no qualms against 'disciplining' him. He'd failed a mission or two during the war, and the memories of his punishments for these failures still skulked in the darkest parts of his mind, presenting themselves in his nightmares. Confusion clouded the monkey's mind as he took a step back. "M-Master I don't understand…"

The death head simply glared. "I _created _you; I'm the reason you_ exist_, and _this _is how you show your loyalty?"

A cold lump of fear began to form in the pit of the simian's stomach, and he was subconsciously beginning to adopt the stance of a frightened youth. "But I've always _been _loyal to you, my lord! I'd _never_ betray you!" the monkey pleaded.

The skeleton's eyes narrowed to slits. "You swore loyalty to the Skull Sorceress…"

Confusion lasted only a single second more before Mandarin realized what the overlord was talking about, his eyes widening in remembrance. The clone began to quake before his master, his anxiousness inadvertently forcing out a nervous chuckle. "Oh…that…"

Skeleton King took another step forward, and the simian in turn began backing up. "Master, please, I-I swear to you I meant no disrespect, I would never had-oof!" In his haste the monkey had tripped over his own feet, causing him to fall. He continued to scurry backwards after this, however, still trying to appeal to the large skeleton in front of him, and partially holding his clawed hand out in front of his body in defense.

"I-I-I tried, sir, I really did, but-but she was too powerful, I-I couldn't-there wasn't-she-she-she made me, Sire! She made me!" A part of the simian realized he was babbling (and utter nonsense, at that) but the look of rage on his creator's features was so intense the monkey could barely form a complete sentence in his _thoughts_ let alone speak in them…

The skeleton made a swift gesture and Mandarin was jerked off the ground into the air (which seemed to be getting progressively thicker). He choked quietly at the pain of his windpipe being crushed, and felt a clammy feeling rush up and down his spine as he looked into his master's eyes.

"My lord- _Grlk!_" The overlord silenced his minion by squeezing tighter, causing him to squirm where he dangled in the air.

The bone lord's expression was colder than ice. "You are no longer my minion…" His hand waved again and the simian squeaked in pain and fear as the armor that covered his body was ripped off, exposing the skeletal creature within. The death then released his mental grip on his subordinate, allowing him to fall towards the ground, only to suddenly lash out with his foot once the monkey was in front of it. The simian bounced off the floor and rolled a few feet further away before painfully pushing himself to his knees and timidly turning to look back at his master. He looked furious.

"I'll see that you suffer for this…"

Skeleton King lifted a clawed hand, and Mandarin's eyes widened in fear as it was raised above his head…

The monkey gasped deeply inwards as his eyes flew open. He glanced around feverishly. His master was nowhere in sight. Cold sweat ran slowly down the sides of his face.

The simian sat up from his sprawled out position, knees pulled up tight to his chest, his forehead resting on his knees, rocking back and forth. He was trembling violently as he did this, all the while murmuring things to himself; things like: "Bad dream; bad dream; bad dream," and "It wasn't real; none of it was real; none of it can hurt you; it wasn't real…"

This was his usual routine for dealing with his many nightmares, just another thing he'd developed in prison; dreams seemed so much more traumatic when there wasn't another living being around to _confirm _they were dreams…

His breathing rate returned to normal (mostly), and he turned his head so his ruined cheek was resting on his knees, and he stared out of the bars of his confine.

Once the witch had gotten what she wanted out of him, she'd promptly thrown him into the cage and left him to pass out from agony and exhaustion. He was fairly certain the enclosure he was confined to was the very same one she had trapped him in and tortured him to find the whereabouts of Skeleton King's skull. It was suspended by a thick, rusty chain from the ceiling, and continued to gently sway back and forth from the propulsion of the monkey's wakeup.

"Good morning, my sweet minion…"

Mandarin jumped at Valina's sudden appearance. He snarled, her excited expression mirroring the look a child gets upon receiving a new toy.

The simian felt like vomiting when he realized _he_ was the toy in this case.

"What do you want, Witch?"

Valina grinned smugly. "I see one of the first things I'll have to do is re-teach you _manners_; it seems you've forgotten how to address your master."

The witch chuckled as the monkey bristled and his eyes narrowed. The amount she was enjoying holding dominion over him was _unfathomable_.

There was a short silence as Mandarin recovered from his slight rage before the sorceress pressed onwards. "Tell me, Simian… What exactly has happened in my absence?"

The monkey glared at the witch through the bars of his cage. "Quite a bit; I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific, Witch…"

Valina's brow creased. "What precisely is our former master up to nowadays?"

Mandarin shivered, his recent dream making the mention of the overlord rather unpleasant. The simian closed his eyes to calm himself and muttered, "He's dead."

The witch's mouth opened slightly in shock. The feeling was quickly replaced by anger and disappointment. Dead? How was she supposed to exact her revenge if he was _dead?_ Half her reason for making the mutilated wretch in front of her her minion was now gone, as she'd wanted to rub the skeleton's face in the fact that his right-hand was now working for her.

A thought dawned on her through her upset. "Am I to assume that means the Great War was lost?"

Mandarin just nodded.

The sorceress went silent in thought. The fact that Skeleton King had died in failure made it a bit easier to swallow the idea that she wouldn't be able to exact vengeance personally... But it also meant that the Hyper Force were the ones to have defeated him, and that concept made her sick.

Realization struck her and she grinned viciously as she discovered a perfect consolation prize to her master…

Valina waved her hand, and the door of the monkey's cage creaked open. Mandarin seemed hesitant to exit, so the witch simply shrugged and used the pink flame she favored so much to yank him out. At the sight of the fiery chain the monkey let out a bestial screech. Valina wasted no time in dragging him out of the room and down the hall, smiling cruelly as she did so.

"Come, Monkey. We have many things to plan and only so much time…"

Mandarin just glared up at her and bit his tongue to refrain from cursing, knowing that it would not be well received.

* * *

"Going out on assignment tonight, are you?"

Atalanta didn't look up, merely continued sorting out her kit. "If I answered that, I would have to kill you," she said in a deadpan tone. A dagger was taken out of its sheath and slammed into the tabletop. The house was filled with wooden tables like this, purely for test purposes. The one that lived in the dark confines of the prep room was afflicted with years of knife marks, while in the centre was an impressive black scorch.

The concrete walls of the basement were unadorned. This was because assassins do not think of their tools as decorations. It was a small cache, but decent. Mr. Benedict did not like to rely on suppliers much (simply for this reason: they can talk), and his daughter was scrupulous in her judgment. The woman pursed her lips, scrutinizing the way the dagger wobbled. Unhappy with it, she tossed the weapon aside. The blade buried itself into the doorjamb, perhaps shaking now out of disappointment.

Mercury stepped away from the doorway, hands in his coat pockets, and sauntered nearer. "You'd never do that, would you? See a face like mine in a grave?"

"You make it very tempting, Mercury. And if we were in a proper academy, you'd be dead meat. Competitive elimination." Atalanta sniffed, shaking her head slightly. In her hand she held a strobe releaser. _Would it be of any use?_ she thought intently.

"Naw! Your dad'd ground you and cut your pocket money."

"Hmph," was her only reply.

Mercury slumped onto a chair and put his elbows on his knees, observing Atalanta's choice of weapons and tools for a few minutes. She glared fiercely at every one, then either threw it away (the way they came so close to hitting him made Mercury strangely suspicious that she was in a bad mood...) or placed it carefully into the accepted pile.

"You need a bit more experience with the shotguns, I reckon," Mercury put in after some consideration.

"Shut up," Atalanta replied promptly. "We've argued over this a thousand times. They're loud, messy, and attract attention. And if circumstances suddenly change, you could miss."

The man leaned back with a smug grin, flinging an arm over the back of the chair. "I _never_ miss."

"Well, your mind must be supplying its own fantasy images to your inflated ego so you're not traumatized by your excessive stupidity-"

"Calm yourself, Atalanta." The approaching footsteps grew louder until the figure of her father appeared in the doorway.

"Sorry, Father." She casually dropped a vial of acid onto the pile and turned to face him.

Mercury sprung into a standing position and babbled out, "Evening, Sir."

"Evening already. How time flies." Cadel's eyes were vacant, distracted. Sweat dried on his forehead.

Atalanta walked tentatively forward, her brow creased. "Are you alright, Father?"

His body seemed to jerk to attention, hand flying up to press his temple. "Oh? Old age, I suppose," Cadel said by way of explanation. He cleared his throat. "Can I see you, Atalanta?"

Mercury chuckled. "I knew it; the client made another request a few hours ago and I'd just come back so it _had_ to be you-"

"Mercury, _shut up._"

He bowed his head, knowing that this time, Atalanta _meant_ it. There were the irritated, scathing remarks, and _then_ there were the furious orders that she barked out... They had a different quality in them, thunder from the caves of death and blood. Or something like that; Mercury was never very eloquent or poetic. Wrapping a dead body up in flowery words didn't stop it from being a dead body. Cadel's expression said nothing, but then again the fiery woman was always sufficient to silence the young man.

Atalanta and her father strode into the hallway, Mercury choosing to respectfully remain behind.

The cream carpet absorbed every sound of their passage, sucking words and footsteps in with the dust.

"You've prepared your things?"

"Yes, Father."

"This is not a normal assignment, Atalanta."

Her eyebrows rose in curiosity and appreciation. "A challenge, I hope."

"The client requests that you use a special weapon." From his suit pocket, Cadel produced a long dagger. It had a faded, ratty leather sheath, as well as a black and silver hilt. The silver was tarnished, dark spots marring the shine.

_Could do with a polish, _was her first thought. "Nothing special. Silver's very unwise; the shine will give me away..." Atalanta remarked. She reached for the dagger, curling her fingers around the hilt. "A bit big for me, but I guess not everything's custom-fitted." Atalanta enjoyed using daggers. They were usually used as a last resort, but she often forsook Mercury's beloved firearms and went right to poison and neck-snapping.

"You won't be using a disguise, other than what the night can give you," Cadel said, in a tone that was quite a lot graver than usual. "Good luck."

"I don't like to depend on luck, you know that. But thank you all the same."

Mercury was still waiting in the prep room, surrounded by racks of knives, firearms, and various chemicals in small packages. The strobes and smoke bombs were further back.

"Going out, right?"

Atalanta walked purposefully and silently to the pile she had been amassing, picking up the items one by one and finding a place on her person for them. _Maximum of three knives, a small pistol with a pouch of different cartridges, and a smoke bomb, leave the strobe... _She prepared herself without acknowledging Mercury even once. He tapped his feet and drummed his fingers against the bottom of the seat in mild annoyance.

When Atalanta made to leave, her coat bundled up in the crook of her arm, he leapt from his chair and slipped a handful of shining metal into her coat's pocket.

"You're forgetting your invisible bullets, Professor."

Their faces were less than an inch apart. Mercury felt the air expelled from her nostrils run across his cheek. Atalanta looked at his winking, smiling face. And there was a hiss of air as she kicked his kneecap.

* * *

Cadel sank back into his chair, his fingers massaging his forehead. "Are you happy now?" The demand surged through the air in his office, air which was emptier than Cadel would like. If Grimmlock was not physically in the room, it meant that he was somewhere else. And Cadel didn't like _not knowing_ exactly where... Not to mention that the fiend was dead, which didn't look to be enough to keep him down-

"_About you sending your only child into the unknown dangers that I have prepared? She's a capable girl." _The voice chuckled, which caused Cadel's level of hatred to flare. _"You made a wise decision. The girl can look after herself. Your lovely wife, on the other hand..."_

Grimmlock let the phrase hang in the nothingness.

A faint voice made itself known on the edge of Cadel's hearing, hollow. Urgent, pleading. _"Theodore? What's happening now?"_

Louder, Grimmlock heaved a sigh. _"Very well, a reward for your splendid cooperation."_

Cadel did not hear the softer, female voice again. His eyes drifted to a low drawer. Doing his best to block out the intrusive voice, he slid it open and closed his fingers around a photograph. It was creased along the edges, but still clear. A face was in the center, one that wasn't quite smiling but glowing somehow. The almost magical moment before a joke has been told, before a laugh. Cadel shut his eyes and mentally reached in, searching-

"She's safe for now," he murmured to himself. Shaken up a bit, as was to be expected, but safe...

"_I quite enjoyed your wife's company, you know." _Grimmlock commented casually. _"If you are no longer cooperative, I can bring her back. It's not a very pleasant place here, even if you do have someone to share it with."_

Cadel could feel the veins on his forehead throb painfully. The tableau of his office blurred in front of him. "Can the dead have no peace?"

"_No," _Grimmlock answered flatly.

_ "Because the dead want a slice of the living world."_

_

* * *

_

The sun had slipped below the horizon like a slice of gold pineapple dropped from sticky hands. Of course, only those who lived on the very outskirts of the city would see the true horizon, and the true sunset. To the majority of Shuggazoom, their star merely went behind some apartment buildings.

Chiro had taken to patrolling by foot as of late. He no longer possessed much of a taste for jetpacks. Sometimes the boy would close his eyes in concentration and perhaps –just perhaps- a gentle breeze would come along. This would trigger memories of flying above the city, how Shuggazoom City smelled different from up there, of those days when finding mutated worms in the harbor was exciting and so deliciously gross...

Those memories would be enough, most of the time.

Occasionally, Chiro would get out his old jetpack. Otto would recharge the emergency battery, top up the fuel. The straps always fitted. It was only a year, after all...

The faint shape of the moon began to focus as the color surrounding it darkened. Chiro ambled onwards through the streets, forgetting time and life until the night came.

* * *

Mandarin's nostrils flared. His eyelids closed for a single instant, and in that second the monkey's blood burned with bestial hunger. Mandarin could _smell_ the boy...

_Now, _his brain said. _I want him _now,_ I want to cut off his hands and hear him scream-_

The monkey's crab-like claw shuddered open and closed as he watched the boy meander through the street.

"Wonderful," Valina purred softly from the shadows behind the undead monkey. Her voice had grown quieter as they had closed in on the hero's trail; she savored every step she took.

Valina had chosen a position on the opposite side of the street from where Chiro was walking, with at least twenty meters' distance between them. It would not be long until the boy came parallel with them. They waited in the dark and narrow gap between two humble shops, where grey-green boxes filled with garbage awaited collection and disposal.

The witch let out a crackling laugh in anticipation. "Look at him," she said, almost to herself. "We are standing across the street, and he does not even _raise his head…_" The witch turned to look at the simian crouched next to her, smiling slightly, the prospect of sweet revenge putting her in an uncharacteristically good mood. Even if it _was_ towards the monkey. "Quite pitiful, isn't it?"

"Why do we wait?" Mandarin barked in reply, not sharing her disposition. If anything he was actually _more_ tense and agitated, having previous endeavors such as this fail explosively for him. He wasn't going to relax until it was over…

The monkey was currently on all fours, poised for a leaping attack. "We've found him, yet you do not strike?" The monkey's tail arched in animalistic longing.

Valina glared sharply in Mandarin's direction. She was not in the mood for his attitude. "Presumptuous simian. _He _will to come to _us._ It will make the trap all the more delicious," she said with a tight-lipped smile.

Mandarin turned his head away from her face, hissing in disgust. She was making him retch.

Valina saw him turn his back. "And you, simian, were perfectly willing to waste time when you used my amulet against the Hyper Force. You let them run. They got away from you!"

The monkey scowled, not looking back at the sneering face behind him. "I had the upper hand then. I turned their side of the battlefield into a living nightmare." His narrowed eyes followed Chiro as he walked with hands in his coat pockets. "I'm not so certain that we have the advantage here," he muttered.

Valina's mouth remained closed in a critical frown.

The figure of the hero enlarged as he progressed. His head of black hair was still hanging down. Closer, closer, closer still...

_Quite a picture of melancholy, boy, _Valina mused.

He crossed the street, looking up briefly only to check for passing cars. Closer. He was on their side of the street now. A corner of Valina's upper lip rose, exposing a pointed tooth.

_Can't stay away from old memories, can you?_

* * *

_I recognize this place..._

It was a broken down old shop, hardly worth the effort of renovating. No one was willing to buy the property, although it was spacious. There were no windows, just a wide doorway leading to a rectangular room. The floor of the room was covered in fine grey dust, as hardly any of the council workers remembered to sweep it. The building's facade had been painted over in white after the previous owners had left; an attempt to wipe the slate. It was peeling horribly now.

_Used to be really busy around here, _Chiro reflected, a strange tug in his chest causing him to sigh. He still remembered the posters on the walls, garish eruptions of purple and silver. The crowds around each console, children egging each other on whooping at each score. Every player at the buttons was the hero of his own life. Dozens of evil aliens died by the second, splattering across the screens in a flurry of pixels.

_The Cincos had new games every two months..._

As Chiro drew level with the decrepit shop, he...stopped.

_Something's there- _

He had no time to go into a fighting stance. He didn't even _see_ it properly. Before pain flowered in the back of his skull, there was only a flying explosion of black.

Chiro felt four points of painful contact on his body. Something with at least four appendages was ripping into him, pushing in sharp claws. Of a more pressing nature was the hand shoved up against his windpipe.

"Game over is pending, Chiro," the Skull Sorceress sneered.

The teenager's head throbbed with agony. He had been slammed onto the road surface, his skull making the worst impact. He could barely breathe for the witch's constricting grip, and his blue eyes were inflamed with disbelief.

"Valina! You're dead! It can't-"

There was a _crack!_ as one of Chiro's ribs fractured. Mandarin locked his gaze with the boy, detected the rising hatred in the azure eyes, and pushed the heel of his hand harder into the hero's chest. Chiro choked out a pained groan.

Valina dragged a sharp nail down his cheek with her free hand, positively beaming when he turned his head away desperately. "Are you going to call your monkeys for help, Chiro? Or will you fight me?"

Mandarin had been unleashed on Chiro like a mad beast, practically flying across the distance between them. The monkey pulled out one of his bloody paws and patted down Chiro's coat pockets. All empty. There was no communicator clipped to his collar.

"No reinforcements, _boy?_" Mandarin hissed mockingly. His bulbous left claw closed in around the boy's elbow.

Chiro's face froze in terror.

"Take an eye for an eye, _boy._ You ought to have known that, Chosen One. Sorceress...let him scream."

Valina huffed at the simian's impertinence, but acknowledged it as a sound request. The witch loosened her grip.

Mandarin bared all of his jagged teeth in a revolting smile. His breath came out in short, excited gasps. The two halves of the crab claw came closer together, the gap shortened... And as it did so the Chosen One _**screamed.**_

Above the noise of the boy's horrendous cries and the nauseating crunch of bones, Valina and Mandarin laughed in unison.

Blood poured from the gashes at Chiro's elbow and onto the tarred street. He could feel the joint buckling under the stupendous pressure of Mandarin's claw, slowly collapsing, breaking. The pain was unbearable; his eyes were open wide, mouth gaping. Chiro's vision was blurred, and his world burned with crimson fire.

Tiny curls of green smoke drifted out of his mouth. The hero's eyes became vacant, all expression receding from his face.

Far away, a cybernetic monkey would not hear the high-pitched _beep-beep _of a distress call, but a mental call for help from a weakened child.

Valina stood up straight, leaving Mandarin to continue with his mutilations. She looked down with the smile still on her lips, and, finding the sight morbidly endearing, murmured, "Good boy."

Mandarin paused in his gruesome task (trying to ignore the witch's degrading comment) to mutter, "They'll act fast. I give us two minutes until they arrive."

"I'm not going to have him killed now, if that's what you're implying. Do not forget that I am your master now, simian!"

The undead monkey did not reply. It was at that moment that Mandarin noticed that the green glow had reached Chiro's eyes.

Mandarin was blown into the air by the explosion, but he twisted mid-air and landed on his feet. Valina was not affected, standing still as a statue amid the blinding light. Her short silver cape billowed and waved.

"So, the boy is going to fight, is he?" She chuckled. "Finally, some real action." The witch raised both her arms, a pink haze emanating from her fingertips.

Chiro made an attempt to stand up, but his broken ribcage and the flesh wounds Mandarin had inflicted had severely weakened him. His right arm hung limply by his side, and even that position pained him greatly. The teenager's throat was dry, burning as he breathed. Thick, red blood was pouring from his injuries and dripping onto the ground. There was a green flash, but it was weaker than the last...

Against his will, Chiro's knees buckled and he collapsed with a moan.

"Kill him-?"

"No! I am in control here, Mandarin." The sorceress looked to the sky; saw the dark spots coming over the buildings. Pinpoints of orange flame trailed

behind them. "We wait."

The shapes landed quickly. Gibson rushed over to Chiro's fallen body. The others wasted no time in attacking.

Valina let Mandarin lunge forward first. Once he had torn into one of his former brethren, she herself let hell fly from her glowing hands.

The battle had been raging for roughly forty-five minutes. Not all that long in the course of everyday life, but it was an eternity when in the midst of a battle. Valina growled. This should've been over by now…

The witch hissed suddenly as something slashed at her from behind. Whirling around she saw the silver monkey, claws bared and poised for another attack. The witch snarled and prepared to fire an attack of her own, but a shriek caught her attention.

Mandarin was currently grappling with Nova, and losing. The yellow simian drew back a giant fist and thrust it forward, hitting the skeletal monkey square in the ribs and sending him flying backwards into the wall of a building. He hit it hard, rebounding off of it and crashing down to the sidewalk. The female advanced forward to deliver the final blow, Sprx joining her for backup.

Valina's eyes darted from Mandarin to the silver nuisance now closing in on her. The sorceress growled in frustration and sent a haphazard blast her assailant's way, praying it would make contact, before sending a more concentrated attack to the yellow and red monkeys that were rushing for her minion. The spell exploded between them, sending both cyborgs flying. The witch smiled victoriously, but gave a bloodcurdling scream as claws dug into her back. Apparently her earlier blast hadn't hit its target.

The sorceress reached back and grabbed the simian's shoulder, roughly throwing him to the ground and forcing electric pulses into his metal body. She then hissed again quietly, gripping her own shoulder to ease the pain of her earlier wound. The witch glanced around, surveying the battleground. Mandarin looked exhausted (something she could relate to at the moment) and all the Hyper Force members were temporarily down. She wouldn't be able to continue this… If she was going to make an escape, now was the time to do it.

Valina rushed forward abruptly towards her minion, who looked up blearily. Her hand lurched out, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and yanking him up. The pair disappeared from sight an instant later.

Roughly a mile outside the city of Shuggazoom, a young woman and demonic simian appeared from nowhere. Valina dropped to her knees and panted softly, having released the monkey she'd been gripping, who collapsed next to her.

After a moment of silence the witch turned to glare venomously at the simian. "This is your fault…"

Mandarin scowled and turned on the woman. "_My fault_? **You're** the one that retreated!"

The sorceress stood up to her full height. "Because that accursed metal menace attacked me from behind while I was defending _your_ worthless tail! If you hadn't let those weaklings walk over you I wouldn't have had to!"

The simian stood up as well. "Well, pardon me if you can't take _a single hit_, but that isn't my fault!"

"I've taken more than a single hit, you useless pile of bones! We've both taken several attacks and we couldn't stand much more!"

"_Then why are you screaming at me?"_

"_Because if I hadn't had wasted time defending you I might've been able to defeat them!"_

Mandarin growled, then crossed his arms and turned his back to the witch. "Then you shouldn't have wasted time. I could've taken them…"

Valina shrieked in rage and seconds later was trying to pump as much magic as she could into the simian. She didn't stop until the scent of burning fur hung heavily in the air.

The monkey inhaled deeply as the torment ended and he could stop screaming. The witched glared venomously at him. "Don't turn your back on me when I'm speaking to you, Monkey…"

Mandarin trembled where he stood as a result of the attack.

_It _is_ all your fault…_

The simian jumped as a voice sounded. His eyes darted back and forth, but only his eyes. He didn't need the witch prodding him for answers to anything…

_You're weak…_

Mandarin felt a familiar feeling return to his gut.

_Are you scared, Mandy? You should be…_

The simian felt some invisible force dragging itself along the outline of his spine, making him shiver, then he felt as if whatever it was had latched onto him and was now draining the energy from him.

_Give in…give in _now.

The monkey fought back a wince as the witch's flame ignited itself around his neck, and returning to the real world at last, felt the phantom leech disappear.

"Take me home." It wasn't a request; it was a demand.

The simian dared a few more moments of defiance. "Why didn't you just teleport us there in the first place?"

Valina tightened the restraint, making him gag. "I didn't have the energy…now MOVE." She grasped a length of crimson flame in her hand and impassively observed Mandarin retching at the thought of being a chariot horse –again.

After a few moments the monkey begrudgingly began running in the direction of the Zone of Wasted Years.

* * *

_Four hour job, _Atalanta reflected, _and I barely know anything._

She rubbed her arms furiously, in an attempt to get her blood circulating again. Deserts were cold at night, she knew that, but she'd never had to spend up until midnight waiting in one. She was not comfortable. The most strategic spot Atalanta had been able to find was leaning against the trunk of a gangly tree, using whatever shadow it cast.

The whole thing was extremely suspicious. Who would she be inhuming in a _desert? _From this single location sprouted the only vegetation for miles around. Hand reluctantly clutching a gun loaded with half-strength bullets (they didn't have the intensity to kill but they hurt like rabid dogs mauling your head off), Atalanta had quickly explored the patch of shrubs and black trunks. Ten meters deep at most, hardly a massive forest. Within three minutes she had established an escape route in case anyone had an ambush in store for her. The ground was completely covered in vines, sickly little things. All dry and crackly, which Atalanta did not like at all.

The source of the miniature jungle was undoubtedly a cave. Each vine, each root, came from the inside of _that_ cave. The black figure had the dark opening in her sights at all times. Outside the small forest was the hard crust of Wasted Years soil.

So it was either the flimsy little tree or underneath a rock.

Her orders were to kill anyone who came near the mouth of the cave between eight o'clock and twelve, and despite taking her strategic position seriously the assassin was cursing her luck. _What kind of assignment is this? Well, I only have to stay here until midnight. Then the client can kiss my ass._

Three minutes to twelve.

Atalanta stretched in between her hesitant shivers. The moon was supposedly full tonight. _At least close to full, _Atalanta thought. The outline was blurred by thin clouds. White specks winked on a dark purple background.

Two minutes more.

_No one, no one, no one, no one at all..._ Large ants crawled along the trunk of the tree, a black line of vicious-looking dots. The special dagger rested on Atalanta's belt, the silver gleam hidden by her hand.

She began to wonder if she ought to enter the cave and have a quick look. Someone could be inside, after all, without her knowing. Just a step away and she'd be inside. A five second glance. It was incredibly dull waiting here; to think that she had prepared all her things for nothing...

One minute-

The assassin's jaw clenched. She had heard something, coming closer, not treading on the vines yet, beyond on the sand...

Incoherent voices pierced into the night. Atalanta's heartbeat quickened, just a bit. Muscles all over her body started to tense and flex in anticipation. The tingling in her blood slowly took her over.

The cracking of dried vines began, and the assassin set her mouth into a grim line. She closed her eyes for a second, listening to the footsteps and the voices –apparently bickering. Two of them, headed on a straight line towards the mouth of the cave.

The dark shapes soon appeared in between the short trees. They were moving fast, recklessly shoving the plants aside. Fifteen seconds until they went from the rim of the bushes to the cave.

_What _is _that thing?_ The previous four hours had given her excellent night vision. If she had been younger and easier to surprise, Atalanta would have stepped backwards with her mouth open. One of the figures was on all fours, head lowered to the ground. It was unlike any animal she had ever seen. Her hands twitched. _Closer, come on..._

Atalanta slid the dagger from its sheath.

As she did so, a white spark of light dragged her unwilling eye to it. The spark grew into a glittering line, snaking around on both sides of the blade. The knife _glowed._

_What?_

One of the voices rose in volume, the words ringing with alarm. The taller figure raised an arm to point, but it had been the little one that had called out. Atalanta expected them to run the remaining ten meters to her.

She got a fireball instead.

It burned through the weak tree trunks, charred the scraggly shrubs. _Crap, _was the first thought Atalanta had as she threw herself to the ground. She spat out a mouthful of bark and then in a corner of her mind: _I knew that dagger was a stupid idea._

She took her handgun, aimed at the creature running on all fours towards her, sent the bullet spinning through the air-

"Uumph!"

-missed her target for the first time in eight and a half months, and got the wind knock out of her.

_Gods, it's a mutant monkey!_ Atalanta felt a sticky liquid splash across her leg. So she had merely wounded the monkey. _Where's the knife, where's the damn knife-_

The monkey screeched and swiped at her face. Its breath was hot and rancid. Atalanta felt her boots connect with his chest and rolled away, retrieving the dagger from the ground. It glowed with a strong silver light, illuminating the entire patch of trees. A lightning fast glance brought the other specter into her view, a grey-faced woman flying towards her.

Well, close combat was her specialty.

* * *

Valina's first feeling at finding a trespasser at the door of her domain was simple, supreme rage. Her revenge was only half-fulfilled and she was unsatisfied with that. The Hyper Force had not pursued them, not until they had recovered from their injuries, but _this-_

The witch instantly sent a large fireball in response to the silvery glimmer. She then gave Mandarin a moderate kick, which was enough to get him bounding across the forest floor. Valina drew a breath in through her nostrils, then surged forwards with a scream in her throat.

There was a grunt -feminine in some way- when Mandarin collided with the intruder. Valina's arms shivered with magic.

_I will kill her! Her corpse will feel the ravens of the Savage Lands. She will __**die! **_Red electricity jumped between her fingers, and when she pointed two stiff claws of each hand at the body staggering to its feet, zigzagged through the air.

The body ducked, silver dagger glinting in the gloom. There was no sign of Mandarin.

"Cowardly simian!" Valina hissed into the night. She extended her arms, preparing to release another blast of magic.

The woman with the knife weaved in between the trees, darted to the right and threw herself at Valina. They were a foot apart when the witch raised a hand, and red flames set everything ablaze. There was a yell as the attacker covered her face with her arms.

That was just for one brief second. At night things move faster; ordinary forces weaken. The knife stabbed through the flames, gripped by a woman in black. Her clothes were smoking with magical fire, little flames dancing on her thighs. Valina thrust forward a clawed fist with a furious yell.

She could see the assailant's face. It was a female youth. Drained of blood and warmth, eyes unnaturally wide, lips twisted into an ugly wince as Valina curled her pasty grey fingers around the wrist holding the dagger. It was _afraid, _it feared her and the reward would be a bloody death out where no one could hear the agonized wails-

The silver dagger blindingly lit up the surroundings; the two females could see each other as if it was a bright day. The witch's fingers crushed the wrist with unyielding force. The blade shuddered in the assassin's palm, trembling as she fought for movement.

_Is that her only weapon? What an idiotic girl. She will die here,_ Valina thought gleefully, _and I will not make it a pleasant experience._

In an act of blatant stupidity that marked desperation, the girl punched forward with her free hand. Valina caught the fist, stopping it in its path as easily as if she was waving away a troublesome insect.

But dark, foul-smelling smoke abruptly diffused through the air, and when Valina could see again, there was a knife lodged in her stomach up to the hilt.

* * *

The witch would have to wait; one does not ignore lithe, mutant monkeys that are presently trying to kill-

It was on its feet and coming in low for another attack. The crackling of vines and crashing of trees filled her ears. Atalanta waited two seconds, then lunged forward to get closer, her arm slashing downwards as the animal came into range. Too late for it to skid to a stop, her hand was coming down.

The blade hit hard bone and glanced off. The thing had _armor; _for pity's sake, they'd sent her to kill a bloody mutant...

The monkey was undeterred. It didn't slow down at all, instead sank its claws (and eventually its teeth) into Atalanta's left calf. Blood spurted out of the wound and ran down, staining the undergrowth red.

_Under the armor, under the armor..._ Atalanta thought frantically. A black claw found an opening and rose upwards; her shirt acquired three long rips.

_Underneath the ribs!_

She had lost her gun somewhere. The dagger was useless! It lit up everything; the monkey could predict every feint, every lunge. No gun, the throwing knives didn't have enough space to be thrown. All that was left was the single smoke bomb. It was inside a back pocket, a small spherical lump. Atalanta's left hand slid towards it, adrenaline making her movements quick and precise.

It kept the monkey back for a few seconds, at least. His head would be ringing with the impact; the smoke bombs had a heavy metal casing and Atalanta could hit _hard._

The silver dagger slipped into tough flesh. Underneath the ribs.

Still gripping the dagger and straddling the monkey's small frame, the assassin watched in awed fascination. The body immediately went rigid, the eyes whitened. Perhaps the dagger was poisoned.

Scarlet lightning fizzled in the air. Flames engulfed the ailing shrubbery. Incandescent silver speared through the night, brighter than even the fiercest of lightning storms.

_The bloody stupid knife lights up everything! She can see my every move!_

A hand snatched her wrist and stopped it short. She tried to ignore the cracks, and wildly thrust out her left arm. The witch took the bait, sending her remaining hand out to meet it. Witch and assassin grappled briefly, arms locked together above their heads.

The perfect feint. The witch was powerless now. Both hands occupied. Just hope she couldn't use magic with her mind alone-

The smoke bomb grew warm in her left fist. Atalanta's thumb felt for the smoke bomb's trigger, pressed the circular pad gently.

The knife was propelled through the bank of smoke, glittering savagely. Atalanta heard the nauseating squelch of pierced tissue. _None of _my _daggers make a racket like that, _she thought disapprovingly, in the portion of her head reserved for snide remarks. The noise the witch made as she fell to the ground was even louder. A chorus of syncopated crunches...

The silver light vanished at that moment.

It was not an honorable victory won by wits and ability, but the victim had played pretty dirty and that only warranted equal return. Among the broken trees in the wreckage of their fight, Atalanta did her best to trudge (but her wounded leg only allowed her to hop and limp) back to the monkey. She checked his breathing with a mirror the size of her palm. No mist. She wondered about the strange rigidness and the clouding over of the eyes; the signs of death came far too early. Poison, she suspected. Atalanta did the same with the other one. Both were as stiff as planks.

_Job well done_.

The assassin's breath came out in regular pants and made curly white wisps in the chilly desert air. She made to sheath the dagger, hissed quietly in pain and dropped it. Atalanta eventually dialed her father on her phone using her left hand, then waited patiently.

There was no one to witness her leaving the bodies to bleed on the vines.


	6. Welcome to the After World

Her heart had stopped. Skull Sorceress or not, you still needed blood circulation.

Swirling shadows and carpets of fog were the first things she saw, black and white rolling over each other. A hasty glance downwards told her that she was standing upright, and her curiosity was aroused by the waterfall of dark red spilling over her belt.

While she struggled to move her legs, Valina felt the need to spit out her leathery tongue and retch a bit. Her limbs refused to move. A twitch would do. Why was it that they were so leaden? There was a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, and Valina's eyebrows crept closer together as she realized that it was not altogether _unfamiliar...  
_  
Numbness. Her mind was in a whir, but her body would not shift. The witch blinked a few times in frustration, and it was on the fourth blink that she noticed the trees. They were all grey-trunked and dead. Deep cracks ran along the length of the trunks, black gouges and ugly knotholes. None of the plants had leaves to speak of, it seemed. All just dark shadows on the edge of her vision-

Valina was jerked out of her train of thought by an agonized scream. It came from her right, and she twisted her neck painfully to look. An orange and white shape tumbled into view. It moaned loudly, face-down in the dirt. The mist lifted off the witch's memory.

The girl, the girl with the dagger...

And Valina lurched forward, her knees choosing that moment to unfreeze. The orange and white shape heard the heavy footsteps she took to refrain from falling and turned his head. What he saw was a black tower looming in his vision, and his tired eyes squinted in response.

Valina reached down and pulled Mandarin up by the scruff of his neck. Black, glossy leaves cascaded off his back. The monkey must have fallen through the trees. How that had happened she wasn't sure of yet...

As soon as she let go of Mandarin, he only fell to his knees and coughed and spat out blood.

The witch didn't try to lift him up again, taking time to scrutinize their surroundings. The air felt thin and cold. There was a path of grey dirt, meandering in curves between the trees. Immediate escape was her top priority.

Another pressing matter was the gap in her memory. The last thing Valina recalled was fighting the girl, the assassin, outside the entrance to the Savage Lands. Then, simply a chasm. Unless there really was nothing to _fill_ it...

Valina fought the rising dread, closing her eyes and concentrating furiously. There were spidery lines of magic in this place, running deep within everything that surrounded her. Strange, dark magic. Something wailed, far away and hard to discern.

Her eyes snapped open as Mandarin weakly tugged the hem of her robe. Once the monkey had gained her attention he pointed towards the right. The fog hung limply from the branches of the trees, but for a moment it parted slightly.

The shape was shorter than the trees around it and had no branches, so it was accordingly a source of concern. The curtain of fog closed around the specter again, hiding the two parties from each other's view. Valina motioned for her minion to keep still and silent, herself tensing her muscles and holding her breath. This was not a difficult task, as she no longer had any breath.

_What?_ Valina pressed her hand to her chest. _No, it couldn't. Not- Not again...  
_  
The sorceress cautiously swept a hand across her bleeding stomach, and wondered why it didn't hurt. Her eyes never left the bank of trees where the other figure had appeared, while several alarming thoughts rushed from edge to edge of her mind.

The trees around them groaned heavily as a gust of wind sped through the boughs. The wind exhaled, drew in another breath, then exhaled once more. Valina scowled briefly. Even the winds were mocking her...

The figure became more and more distinct as it abruptly started for them. The witch felt Mandarin's grip on her robe tighten ever so slightly, him having absentmindedly forgotten to let go after having attracted her attention. She had half a mind to swat his filthy little claw from the hem, but she pushed the thought away. There was a more urgent matter to tend to...

She didn't notice the simian squeeze his eyes shut as pain swelled in his mind and his vision blurred.

Whatever or whoever it was was closing in fast and the sorceress slipped into a fighting stance. The figure stopped suddenly several feet in front of them. It appeared human; wearing a tattered brown robe, the hood enveloping its features in shadows. It was standing completely still.

Valina dared to swallow, becoming uncomfortably aware of the increasing dryness in her mouth. The figure's lack of movement was…unnerving.

Red suddenly flashed under the hood, and both witch and simian found themselves flying onto their backs. Both grunted painfully as they hit the ground. A dark chuckle followed, and the figure tilted its chin up, allowing the shadows to flee from its…his face. The man was pale as death, and dinged brown hair dangled in front of his face. His eyes were blood red -most likely the source of the flash- and sunken. His face was extremely gaunt, and every one of his teeth was a pointed fang.

The man stared maliciously down the bridge of his nose at the fallen pair. His face abruptly contorted to that of mock-guilt.

"Oh dear, did _I_ do that?"

He started for them once more, as the two had been sent back a few feet. His expression was that of feigned innocence, but smugness could be detected just beneath the surface. "Dreadfully sorry, my sweet Skull Sorceress. So long without company has made my manners scarce." He reached the pair, smirking as Valina's mouth hung open slightly in shock at the mention of her title. "Allow me to reconcile by welcoming you to my domain."

He turned swiftly to look at Mandarin, who was attempting to stand unsteadily. Another chuckle escaped the man's lips. "And you brought your little pet! How nice…"

Mandarin raised his head to berate the stranger, but any words he'd prepared died in his throat. The second the simian had made eye contact with him the throb in his head morphed into the feeling that some massive creature was crushing his skull with its thumb and index finger. The monkey gasped silently and fought to keep his balance, the world around him beginning to swirl.

The man smiled faintly at the simian's reaction before turning to face Valina once more. Mandarin exhaled as the pain suddenly lessened.

The witch barely took notice, recovering slightly from the surprise of being flung on her back. She was _not_ happy. "_Where_ precisely is your domain?"

The male in front of her laughed loudly and abruptly, causing her to jump slightly. "_That's_ what you're concerned about?" He laughed again, quieter this time, and continued, "Who's to say? Somewhere off the brink of existence is my guess…"

Valina's mouth hung open again. If what the stranger in front of her was saying was true, then…she was…_she was…_

The sorceress shook her head. "What do you _mean_ 'somewhere off the brink of existence'? That makes no sense!"

The figure opposite of her grinned toothily. "I'm sure it makes enough sense to you, my dear; seeing as you were in the same boat as I only mere days earlier…"

The witch's eyes widened.

The remark hung in the air as silence swelled in the clearing. The words numbed Valina. A man she'd never met knew who she was…and what had happened to her…

The sorceress growled and her hand lashed out, grabbing the collar of the ragged robe and yanking it forward. Her eyes bore holes into his. She raised her opposite hand and allowed it to crackle with magic.

"Who are you?" Her voice was a low, scathing hiss.

The man merely cocked an eyebrow, looking only vaguely amused. "Call me Grimmlock, if it so pleases you, my dear."

Valina's snarl slackened as she took in this information. The name ran in circles in her head. _Grimmlock...Grimmlock..._ "This is important," it seemed to say. Annoyed with her lapse of concentration, the witch gave the fabric in her fist a stern wrench.

"I am going to ask some questions, and you will answer them," she stated. "How do we leave here?"

This robed man, this Grimmlock, raised his hands and gently pried his collar out of Valina's grasp. His face cracked into a smile and smugness glittered in his eyes. "Leave? But my dear, your visit has scarcely begun! I admit that it is not pleasant to be standing out in the wilderness," he gestured at the hunching trees, "Isn't it draughty? I know where we can get shelter..." He turned on his heel, rustling the leaves at his feet. "Come with me, darling sorceress. And bring your pet."

The fog swallowed him up.

Mandarin met Valina's eye. His legs were unsteady and his face tightened into a grimace. He managed one word, however. "Ambush."

The witch's gaze traversed the scenery. "Whatever he can do, I can match it," she muttered, summoning a spark to her fingertips. She listened for footsteps and heard none. Perhaps, if she read the lines of magic, they could find a way out-

"My dear, I am sorry!" came a cry not a foot behind. Mandarin yelped and scurried blindly forward in the leaf litter, while Valina spun around in shock.

Grimmlock had his arms open in entreaty. "I had quite forgotten that a gentleman should offer his hand to the lady. This dreadful fog can get you very lost." He gave another hideous, toothy smile. "And there are monsters in these woods, you know."

Valina rocked an eyebrow as he extended a pale hand. She could see the bluish veins running in between his gaunt knuckles. _Such accommodating words,_ she thought. _Was_ _the bit about the monsters a threat?_ She huffed inwardly. Of course it was. Her hand twitched upwards, but she jerked it back and said levelly, "Lead on...Grimmlock." Valina spared a glance to check that Mandarin was following, then strode off.

The monkey swallowed hard (and nearly broke out into a coughing fit; his throat felt dry and his lungs were heaving painfully). But he regained some of his strength eventually and trudged onwards, on all fours for balance. Every now and then Mandarin made an effort to go faster in order to catch up, but one of his legs would always give way beneath him.

Frustrated, the simian spat curses at the surrounding trees -once he managed to lift his head. Even coordinating his body exhausted his energy. To stop was to be enveloped by fog; to go on was torture. The shadow of his new mistress wavered at each turn and he limped after it in spurts. The world in front of his eyes was just a spinning blur of monochrome colors. The path never changed; Mandarin's ragged mind worried that it went on endlessly. A track of nothing but dirt and leaves, forever and ever...

Mandarin vaguely registered that Valina and their guide had stopped moving. He gave one final lurch forward and the pain in his head sharpened to a needlepoint. The last thing he saw was the cool material of a black dress blowing in the wind next to him.

"Your pet is tired, I think."

Valina looked down at her feet, where Mandarin lay prostrate on the ground with a dotted trail of blood behind him. She didn't know what to make of it. After a long pause she conceded, "This...can't have been comfortable for him."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Grimmlock agreed. He closed his eyes for a moment and smiled tightly, lost in a private joke. "Do you see, just there? You see my house, my dear? Not very picturesque, I'm afraid, but I hope you will find it comfortable..."

It sat like the husk of some insect on a twig. The wooden facade was black with age and rotten. Surrounded by trees on three sides, a single window with no glass...

Valina cold not suppress a start as cold fingers grabbed at her hand. The fingertips pressed into her palm and pulled her towards the doorway. "Come, my dear, out of the wind," Grimmlock purred. "I will bring your pet in after us."

The interior of the shack was filled with shadows. The dank floorboards shifted and groaned under her feet. There was a shuffling noise as the shape of Grimmlock moved past her, and when he stood up there was a blazing fireplace. The light only served to make Grimmlock's eyes appear more sunken, and Valina felt herself creeping back from his glimmering red irises. The fire lit him from behind, but his gimlet eyes shone out from his silhouette.

"As you can see, there is no shortage of firewood where I live, my sweet one. Have a seat, please!" His gaze travelled past Valina. "And I see Mandarin has decided to join us."

The witch turned to see her minion trudge woodenly into the doorway. The monkey's arms hung by his side and his eyes stared vacantly ahead. All of a sudden, Mandarin slumped to his knees. His flaccid body fell to the side and leaned against the doorjamb, and did not move any further.

Valina felt that she had put up with quite enough of this man's strange hospitality. She stood on the centre of the hut's single room, making no move to sit down. "You know my minion's name as well as mine," she said, rather uselessly. A greater effort was put into injecting venom into the words. Grimmlock's unnatural gaze penetrated her own. "I spoke neither aloud since I have arrived...here. This realm off the brink of existence, tell me-"

"Ah, but my darling Valina, you must make yourself comfortable first." He moved surprisingly fast; in a moment he was behind Valina, guiding her to the fireplace. He gripped the sorceress's shoulders and pushed her –a little more forcefully than was needed- into a nearby chair.

She sat on it awkwardly, on the edge with her legs tensed, as if she did not want to touch any more of the rickety furniture than she needed to. Valina placed an analytical eye on the figure who sat in another chair opposite her.

Grimmlock stared back with his red eyes. "I see you are impatient to know about my dwelling, Valina. And of how I know so much about you." He smiled again, yet another one of those dreadful shark's smiles... He tilted his head suddenly, the firelight flickering across his gaunt cheek.

"One never would have guessed that you were the offspring of Howe Cinco and Vesper Balin... There's not a speck of your father or mother in you." His eyes travelled up and down, absorbing Valina's appearance. Then his face stretched into something akin to a beam. "You're much lovelier than your mother, of course."

Valina's eyes narrowed. "How do you know such things?" she hissed, more of a demand than a question. Her fists convulsed on her lap, little forks of lightning readying themselves.

The robed man waved a hand airily. "I have had many acquaintances over my life." He put on an expression of mock-hurt and glanced at the fire. "None of them come to visit me here," he stated sadly. He looked up again at Valina with a look of fondness that disgusted the witch, and said, "Until you, my dear."

Impatience fuelled her fury. "Cut the small talk. You are wasting my time."

"Did I forget to mention? I used to be in that little club, that little _cult._ No doubt you know what I mean. What was it called again? Ah! The Skeletal Circle, wasn't it? My dear, you look shocked. I imagine it is not so _popular_ nowadays, is it?"

If she'd had any of Mandarin's recklessness, Valina would have punched that grin out.

Grimmlock gleefully acknowledged her discomfort. He leaned forward, voice darkening. "Might I bother you with a story, my sweet one? A story that happened a long time ago, and revolves around betrayal and scandal- Now, don't interrupt my dear, it's not very polite.

"What do you think when you look at this dilapidated shack? What do you think of this blasted, desolate wood? What about the rags that I wear? There is nothing but loneliness here, Valina. You can lose your mind. No _rest. _No sleep, although you are pushed to the brink of –for want of a better word- exhaustion. It is not the worst of it, though it is endless.

"You get a lot of time to think around here. And I have done such. Humor me for a moment. What do you think I have done to have deserved this?"

Valina twitched her leg, and that was her only response for a minute. Then she said, slowly, carefully, forcefully, "If you think I give a _damn_ about your misery, you can shove it back up your-"

"Because you have no pity for the Skeleton King's victims, correct? But you don't work for him anymore. You're free. You're your own woman now, and might I say, you're doing a fine job." This was said with a crooked, lopsided smirk.

_Was that sarcasm?_ Valina thought furiously.

"I don't want anything to do with the Skeletal Circle," she stated, poison in her stare.

"Neither do I. But I see that you are an intelligent and capable mage. You have done well to sever your ties. They were useless, in any case." He waved a hand dismissively at the air. "Figureheads. Not one of them had the ability to seize _real_ power! Not one!" Grimmlock's frenetic gaze flicked to the fire by his side, and his indignation seemed to have been quelled.

It was blazing now, and every few seconds an unnatural color would flare in its core. The fire was wild, tearing at the air. His eyes turned back, and Valina felt her fist tightening.

"They spurned you as they spurned me. I was killed with the same hand that ended you. The Skeleton King repaid our services with death!"

The witch made a disinterested clicking sound with her nails in an attempt to hide the alarming -not to mention extremely sudden- feeling of empathy. "And what you want from me is...?"

"A helping hand, if you would condescend to lend it. Am I not worthy of your attention, my sweet sorceress? I _like _you, Valina. You're nothing like your parents. Though I suppose I'm biased; it was your parents that betrayed me…"

_Why do I feel sorry for him? I cannot feel sorry for this worm! I should not..._feel...

For a brief time the only sound was the crackle of the fire as the witch wrestled with her thoughts. Eventually, Valina eased herself off the chair and laid a hand on her host's shoulder. "Grimmlock... Whatever I can do..."

He smiled to himself, clearly enjoying the moment. It's _working. Most satisfactorily, I must say._

A foot swept into his knee and a sharp elbow crashed into his sternum. With a roar, Grimmlock fell backwards.

Valina barely slowed down as she grabbed the scruff of Mandarin's neck. She tore down the ashen track, summoning a fraction of her magic to speed up her movement. The black trees whirred past; they burst through the misty walls.

She screamed as she fell to the ground. Grimmlock was on top of her, raging. She punched up an elbow and rolled over, tried to worm away-

It did no good. The man was on top of her again in an instant, and quickly pinned her wrists to the ground. Valina thrashed around madly and screamed, like an animal trapped by some vicious predator. Indeed, that was what the man resembled at the moment. His eyes were wide with fury and his hair seemed to be slightly more tangled under his hood. His knees were on her stomach to keep her down, and he swiftly thrust one in further to silence the witch. She gasped slightly and quieted down a bit, winded, but continued to flail to evade his grasp. She struggled fiercely to summon a blast to throw the man off, or to teleport out of his reach, but she discovered (to her confusion and horror) that her magic was not working. It was as if the jugulars she drew energy from were blocked…which meant she would have to escape manually…

Grimmlock glared at her attempts to escape and tightened his grip on her wrists, soft cracks emitting as he did so. Valina winced. The man's strength surprised her; he certainly didn't _look_ to have the raw strength to break her wrists with his bare hands. But, as the pain at the base of her hands exemplified, he just might.

To the witch's anger, she noticed another smirk spreading across the assailant's face. Though, as she noticed with a twinge of anxiety, this one was much more deranged than any of the previous.

"That wasn't very bright, my sweet…"

Valina still fought against his grip and glowered up at him. His breath was coming out in thin pants through his pointed teeth. It was peculiar how he managed to smirk and still appear irate at the same time. As Valina stared defiantly at Grimmlock his irises seemed to swirl, the color of congealed blood.

Grimmlock became frustrated with the witch's struggling, and as the smile faded he lifted her wrists and slammed them into the ground. "Be SILENT, woman!" he snarled. "Your incessant squirming is becoming quite irritating, and I feel inclined to warn you that things rarely end well for those who cross me…"

The sorceress fought the urge to scream as loudly as she could at the man. "And those who cross _me_ rarely make it out of the situation alive!" she hissed back instead, eyes narrowed.

Grimmlock chuckled maliciously at the witch's retort. "Then I suppose I have nothing to worry about…" The smirk he was becoming infamous for crept its way across his face once more. "And besides…" He leaned in, so his face was next to hers, and whispered, "…you're hardly in a position to make threats."

Valina shuddered at the feeling of the man's breath at her ear. She tried to wrench her wrists free from her attacker's grip while trying to cover up her feeling of nausea. Grimmlock merely cackled softly.

"Your determination is _inspiring,_ my dear. I'd quite forgotten how difficult it was to break your resolve…" He sighed in fake-regret. "Such a shame _Skeleton King_ couldn't see your potential…"

Everything seemed to stop dead for the Skull Sorceress at the mention of her ex-master's name.

The man's grin widened slightly. "You seem surprised, my dearest. But _honestly,_ how could I _not_ have heard about the _tragic_ way you were disposed of?" He clicked his tongue, as if he pitied her. "If I hadn't been killed the same way myself, I wouldn't have been able to believe how _despicably low_ our eminent king was willing to sink…"

Valina chose this moment to stare off into the trees, trying to ignore the gaping hole that was eating its way through her. To be numb to the pain of the memory that arose within her as a far-away dream. And the anger that arose with the pain was overwhelming. How could this still bother her? It had happened over a year ago…

…and this _filthy little maggot_ **dared** to use it against her…

Grimmlock ignored the witch's reaction (or perhaps just used it to fuel the fire) and continued. "You gave everything you had for him, didn't you? You worked, you fought, you _suffered_ for him and his cause; you demolished every obstacle you faced in his name…"

Valina bit her bottom lip.

"…and in the end he simply throws you away…"

The witch wanted so badly to throttle him. She wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze until his head exploded; to break him, to make him _beg_-

She tried to ignore the mist settling in front of her eyes.

Grimmlock changed his expression to that of sympathy. "Oh there, there, my darling. I know how terribly it hurts. I was Skeleton King's second in command once-upon-a-time; before your parents betrayed me, that is… I know how it feels to do everything you're told to do and get punished for it…I know what having faithfulness repaid with agony is like… _I know how you feel_."

Valina's brows creased at this statement.

The witch's silence only served to strengthen the man's resolution as he continued, "Listen to me, Valina… You and I both worshipped the Skeleton King at one point. But he no longer exists…" Grimmlock slowly released one of the sorceress's wrists, and lifted up her chin with the free hand. "Worship _me,_ love _me_...and we will be able to accomplish anything. I'm better than the Skeleton King…" That damned, sarcastic grin weaved itself into his expression. "And I promise, I won't kill you."

The witch had been too shocked to act when he'd released one of her hands, his forwardness catching her off guard. But the last sentence breathed such hatred into the young woman she refused to remain dazed. Valina spit in the man's face out of sheer loathing.

Grimmlock hissed in rage as the saliva hit him. The sorceress raised her free hand to swipe at his eyes, and he growled. He didn't bother trying to pin down her hand again; this time he went straight for her throat.

_"You horrid little wench-!"_

The man shrieked suddenly, stopping his assault and freeing Valina's other hand, finally allowing her to squirm out from under him and stumble to her feet. The witch turned back to face her former captor and fight, and received a slight shock upon doing so.

Perched on Grimmlock's shoulder, biting and clawing at him with all he had, was Mandarin. Despite the fact that Valina found the monkey annoying and had obvious contempt for him, she could've kissed him at that point.

Maybe.

"What took you so long?" she asked instead when the wizard finally grasped the monkey and threw him over to her feet.

Mandarin winced in agony and retched where he knelt, eventually forcing out, "You're lucky I was able to move at all…"

Valina flicked a look at her minion. "You'd better move a bit more," she said dryly. "I'm getting sick of carrying you."

Grimmlock let out an inhuman bellow. Phantom hands stretched out from the too-long sleeves of his robe, ghostly fingers that matched the forest mist. Their dexterous fingers reached as far and quick as lightning.

"You will obey me! You will **SUBMIT!**"

Her mind frantic, Valina struggled to get her magic in order. _Read the lines of magic, find a weak spot..._

She could only find time to shout, "Run!" The witch dived to the side in time to avoid a humongous grey hand. It stretched as far as it could, grasped nothing, and stopped. The palm waved from side to side, as if it could feel for Valina's presence. As she watched, Grimmlock conjured up more appendages, extending his reach. He himself stood stock-still, head bowed. There was a faint red glow around the hood, but it was barely visible inside the tornado of silver-grey smoke.

The landscape howled around them.

Valina caught a glimpse of Mandarin on the opposite side of the clearing, scurrying up the trunk of a tree and leaping towards the next. He almost didn't make it, and too soon another phantom hand was snatching at him.

Valina waved her hands in the air and made a shield. It was blurry. It was weak. It wouldn't last. She tried to force more energy into it, but the film just fizzled away. A dozen hands burst through and shattered the shield, and before she knew it she was on the ground.

Her assailant's crimson eyes looked malevolently down at her. "Damn it, I'll force you down myself!" his voice boomed. Grimmlock pulled her up roughly until they were nose to nose, his fingers closing slowly around Valina's neck.

The blood came, and it hurt. Valina's eyes rolled back and her body went limp. A dizzying maelstrom of horrible colors swept past her eyes. She wanted to fight back, willed her magic to come... But it was all just...

_Powerless, powerless, powerless..._ the voice in her head shouted desperately.

Valina started to scream, a rasping, weak scream. There was a sharp, thin noise on the edge of her hearing, similar to a glass bubble popping. A void opened up inside her-

_None, none!_

And then there was only Grimmlock laughing cruelly, her blood pouring down his arm.

They stood there like two lovers, Valina with her face turned upwards and gazing soullessly at him. Legs unfeeling beneath her, helpless in his arms until he removed his hand to let her collapse against him. He watched her fall to the ground, listened to her shallow wheezing, and he smiled.

No words, not like real lovers.

Valina gaped at her pale fingertips as they brushed the wall of brown material in front of her. A hand –was she really in control of it?- came away, reached back up and made the journey down again. It felt...it felt wrong. This wasn't- It wasn't-! Her mouth opened wider, emitting a fractured cry. It tried to form the words; the desperation mounted.

A mental image came, like froth from the sea. It was of a tall figure, dark and commanding. It extended a clawed hand, its face empty of all emotion. Merciless.

Valina tried to comprehend it, the confusion upsetting her and stirring up unwanted thoughts. The word "master" came, and then...

"Nnh," Valina murmured. The hand that stroked her cheek stopped suddenly. Her jaw shook itself open.

And Valina said, "No."

A black chasm appeared below her. Frozen in her kneeling position, the Skull Sorceress winked out of Grimmlock's domain.

Where she went, even she did not know.

The wizard discharged a horrifying scream. His arms swung wildly around, scarlet flame burning a broad circle around his rigid form. The figurative strands of Limbo hung ragged at his feet, where the sorceress had been.

_You have what you need,_ one voice in his mind said.

"Only half," he growled. The phantom hands appeared again, only this time they appeared faster. He brought one fist closer to examine it. A layer of magic coated it, no more than an atom thick. Real magic. So Grimmlock allowed himself a tight smirk. The glowing fists searched for the monkey. Grimmlock issued a single command: _**Come.**_

Valina's minion had been watching worriedly from the boughs of a tree. He'd heard the sorcerer's enraged scream loud and clear. Leaves whipping around him, Mandarin cried out in pain, his legs freezing up and giving way.

_**Submit, filthy simian,**_ the sound demanded, unbearably loud. Mandarin's chest closed in as if stone walls were crushing him. _**You will follow her. You will bring her to her knees, before ME!**_

Mandarin gnashed his teeth against the pressure, but it did no good. The monkey involuntarily loosened his grip on the branch and fell with a groan, into nothingness.


	7. So Starts the Quest

Mandarin realized three things upon regaining consciousness: First was that the wretched forest had been replaced by the sickly vines in front of the entrance to the Zone of Wasted Years (he was –shockingly- glad about that). Secondly, the pain in his body had shifted. Now there was a sharp, stabbing, stinging pain in his ribs in place of the nauseating agony that had resided in his skull previously. Third, Valina was staring at him.

The witch was kneeling next to him, one hand on the ground to steady herself, the other used to gently shake the monkey. She seemed to be speaking to him, but whatever she was saying was lost on the simian. It was like trying to listen to a conversation through a wall; his ears registered the sound, but he couldn't make sense of it. Just vague syllables bumping into one another and meshing.

The witch's face started to blur in front of his eyes, and Mandarin began to grasp how exhausted he felt. He almost started to fight the feeling, but quickly changed his mind. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to think, he didn't even want to _be_ anymore. To just lie where he was and do nothing felt like a blessing. And besides...pain was so much easier to ignore when one was unconscious…

With that, Mandarin allowed his eyes to close, and retreated into the welcoming arms of black-nothingness.

Valina scowled as the simian fell unconscious again. She began to shake him a bit more forcefully in an attempt to rouse him, but felt violently sick at that moment. The witch flung her forearm over her mouth and scrambled away from her minion. Once she felt she was an adequate distance from him, Valina removed her arm and heaved until blood and vomit spilled from her mouth and splattered to the ground.

* * *

There were pictures, colors, and words, but none of them lasted for more than a few seconds. They seemed to dance around his mind, only staying long enough to let him absorb the basic nature of them, but no more. He understood none of it…but then he realized that maybe he wasn't supposed to.

A young woman. Dark haired, holding a long knife. Then a witch. The color red. _The reason- Thirsts for- __**Murder.**_

A man-no, a _demon._ A vicious, hungry grin and violent, wild eyes. _Taken it- Stolen it- pain, pain, fear and pain…_

Another man. Creases near his eyes showed how old and weary his mind was. _He knows how… __**He knows how…**_

And then there was only white-hot pain…

Mandarin's eyes flew open as he swiftly rolled onto his stomach. Pushing himself onto his hands and knees, the simian retched until he felt his very soul was pouring out of his mouth…

The monkey breathed shakily as the spasms in his gut eventually ceased. He winced. That had _not_ helped the pain in his ribs…

"Oh look, he lives."

The voice behind the simian made him raise his head to look over his shoulder. Valina sat with her knees to her chest, a distance away from her own bloodied-bile, staring straight ahead into the gaping hole that was the entrance to her kingdom.

"Took your dear sweet time returning to the waking world, didn't you?" Her tone was bitter, as was her expression. Mandarin merely glared weakly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

There was silence for a time, and Mandarin chose to move away from the foul-smelling mess on the ground in front of him and roll onto his back again. He grimaced as pain flashed under his armor where he'd been stabbed (he remembered now, that, yes, he had been stabbed; that ambush was a very painful mistake). The simian carefully propped himself up against a scraggly-looking tree trunk. Tentatively, he pressed his clawed-hand to the wound to check the damage-

-only to find there was none. Shocked, Mandarin pulled his hand back and examined it. Yes, sticky, black blood coated his hand, and he certainly _felt_ like he'd been cut, but… The monkey pressed his hand to the wound again, a little firmer this time. There was no entry-wound. No slit, no gaping hole, not even a gouge of flesh missing. Nothing.

"He took it."

Mandarin lifted his head at the witch's outburst. Her voice shook, and it sounded as though she'd been fighting not to say anything on the subject for some time now.

"It's all gone. He took all of it. My power's gone. He took it. _He took it!_"

The simian realized (with utter amazement) that Valina was rambling. The witch was panicked. She was _scared…_

…She was _powerless!_

_Teach the little shrew a lesson!_ a voice screamed in his head. _Show her how it feels to be tormented! __**Make her pay!**_ Mandarin almost grinned at the thought, but when he started to move for the witch…

…He stopped.

Just stopped. He didn't want to, but he stopped. Frustration mounted as he struggled against his immobility. This wasn't fair! After all she'd done, she deserved it! He should be able to do this! _Why couldn't he do this?_

Moments ticked by, and Mandarin remained rooted to the same spot. Something in him roared.

_At least_ run away _if you're too weak to do what should be done!_

This thought seemed equally appealing as the first. Taste freedom instead of witnessing it; it sounded like bliss.

But, like the first concept, this one was similarly unattainable.

_Are you so afraid of her that, even now, when she's_ powerless, _you can't bring yourself to oppose her?_ It was said in a low, seething voice, exemplifying sheer fury.

Mandarin felt a low growl rupture in his throat. He was _not_ afraid of Valina. He _hated_ Valina. And he _would_ repay her for all she'd done to him!

And he would do it _**now**_.

His muscles tensed; if his body wouldn't move towards the witch, he'd take a flying leap at her. He licked his lips, preparing for the taste of blood, then prepared to spring-

…But…

_I swore…_ he realized. _I swore loyalty to her... I can't…_ do _this…_

The monkey fumed for a moment longer, bubbling with so much self-loathing it was painful. Why should it _matter_ if he swore loyalty to her? Were things the other way around, would it matter to _her?_ Absolutely not!

Mandarin growled after a time, albeit half-heartedly. _Must be some sort of spell…_ he reasoned. He began to walk towards the witch, very slowly.

Her eyes were dull, mouth drooping. The simian recoiled as he saw anguish on Valina's face, for the first time, exposed and free-flowing.

"There was something on that knife," she mumbled in a deadpan tone. "A dimensional anchor, I think. He pulled us through with it." Valina scoffed, adding derisively, "If that's any comfort to you." She screwed up the right side of her face in a wince, looking down at her hands. They were cradled between her chest and knees, fingers curled weakly.

_The pain threatened to drown out the entire world. Nothing could make it better, she feared. Everyone said that it would get better soon, but they didn't understand how much it hurt now. Not even Mama... She thought of suffering this torture for the rest of her life, and the little girl in red pigtails burst into tears._

"He broke them." She threw the words out of her mouth, and was unable to stop rough sobs of self-pity flying out with them. "He broke them, the bastard broke them!" Stinging tears materialized on the edge of her eyelids. Valina tried to lift up her wrists to show the monkey, but gasped and lowered them again.

_Look at me, pity me, help me... the girl cried inside._

The bones were aligned and whole; 'healed', you could say. But still they hurt, still his mark stung.

"He broke them..." the woman whispered. The tears looked so out of place on her pasty cheeks. Mandarin was tempted to backhand them off.

"Are you done yet?" he barked. The witch's eyes widened, but indignation soon replaced incredulity. Her mouth opened to put the maggot back in his place, but Mandarin went on, "If someone steals something from you, steal it back. That has been the way of the world since the beginning of time. Retrieve what you have lost. At. All. Cost."

Valina's brow creased angrily. "So the filthy chimp is getting his own ideas now, is he?"

The monkey turned swiftly and pushed his way through the shrubbery. Valina's incredulous expression imprinted itself into his mind; he'd enjoyed that immensely. How control was such a dark joy, such giddiness!

"Where do you think you're going? Come back here, you halfwit!" Valina growled, kicking weakly at the leaf litter.  
The simian's voice came floating back, "...fight fire with fire..."

Valina scowled. She felt compelled to raise her eyes to the sky and demand, "And how does he expect me to do that when I haven't _got_ any?"

As expected, the sky gave no answer. The sun began to rise on the horizon behind her, and it was only when a twinkle of light pierced the canopy that Valina was inclined to get up and look for Mandarin's tracks.

* * *

"Steal it," Mandarin instructed simply.

The house looked perfectly ordinary. It had three stories, a white-washed facade, and vertical blinds. Grey-green weeds sucked at the front path. Just a foot of bare concrete left...

"They provided what I needed to hide the Master's skull," the monkey explained. "I required something that would contain and nullify its incredible power. Something like that is rare to find. Fortunately the owners didn't even know what their little trinket was capable of."

"You broke in and stole it."

"Of course."

Where were all these words coming from? What he was saying had only occurred to him just then, like memories unearthed. _Did_ he steal something from this place? He couldn't remember. Master's skull? The memory felt so old and stale. Lying near the top, like silt in a river, was the year he had spent in the prison, above that Valina's fresh torture. Newest and most terrifying was the ordeal he had just left.

_Former master,_ something added belatedly, but it was a weak voice. His thoughts seemed so quiet all of a sudden, as if they were hiding in the corners, not wanting to be known. The only words that were loud enough to be deciphered properly were commands.

**Get in.**

The witch gritted her teeth as she stared at the second storey balcony. There was a sliding glass door and some ivory gossamer curtains. It would probably be the easiest to breach, and she trusted the people of Shuggazoom to be too narrow-minded to see them climbing up. Her wrists still ached, but Valina had put up a mental wall to the pain. Physical struggle instead of teleporting inside, the nuisance of injuries...it made her feel so disgustingly _mortal._

Her amulet still rested on her neck, glinting in the sunlight, but only as an ordinary jewel would. It, too, was now almost useless.

* * *

"Why does it have to be so slow?" he wondered aloud. Admittedly there was some entertainment to be had. Her suffering sent a delightful tingle up his spine. But the disadvantage was that it was so sickeningly difficult to get things done soon enough...

The walls of the hovel creaked softly in the wind. Would they bend to his will too? Having nothing better to do, Grimmlock tried.

A blink, a flash of darkness.

The wooden paneling began to peel away, clattering to the floor. Piece by piece the wall to his right fell apart. He could do it faster, of course. It was simply interesting to watch it this way, the fragments coming apart at the seams. It gave you a sense of heavy dread; you know you can do something to stop it but to your horror, you're even slower than the wood...

Before long there was simply no more wall. The rest of the tiny house was still structurally sound. There was nothing worse than a few drafts. Where the wall had been was a gaping hole, revealing a view of the surrounding woods.

Eyes open, a flash of red light.

It was instantaneous this time. There was lemon yellow paint on the plaster. Nothing fancy or extravagant, just smooth, even paint guided onto the wall with loving hands. It was a horrendous contrast to the surrounds, purely laughable.

The expanse of wall retained some appeal, though; it was bright and fresh and-

Impossible.

Grimmlock brought his hand out of his sleeve and wiggled his fingers. The lemon yellow vanished, the wooden scraps on the floor disappeared, and it was as if nothing had ever changed.

* * *

It was the monkey's plan, therefore it was the monkey's job to get her up there, she reasoned.

Mandarin almost fainted with the strain. Valina had lashed herself to his mid-section with her belt, demanding petulantly that he carry –or drag, as the case may be- her up. The skull-shaped buckle was cutting into his ribs, which were still tender from the knife-wound, and it was at this point that Mandarin wished he hadn't been so impertinent to his mistress.

She knew how to extract revenge...

The simian's claws pressed into the stone, sending showers of little rock granules tumbling down as he climbed. Having Valina strapped to his back (and yelling at the back of his head) had drastically altered his center of gravity. How he made it up one and a half stories, he didn't know or care.

Mandarin gripped the steel slats of the terrace for dear life, fighting the temptation to close his eyes and let go while Valina unclasped her belt with one hand and swung herself over the railing.

"You don't look to weigh much, witch, but you could stand to lose a bit more!" Mandarin couldn't help from complaining.

She didn't have to say anything. She just glared.

A swipe of Mandarin's hand destroyed the lock on the glass door. Valina pushed away the thin curtain and looked inside. It was a study room, rich carpet on the floor. Tall bookcases lined the walls. "What am I looking for? Or is this as far in your plan as you got?"

"Don't be shy," a disembodied voice said. "Come in."

Valina froze. _No time to panic, you can't afford that now-_

"I isolated this entry point and turned off the security system, you know. Don't feel too good about yourselves. That monkey, however, demonstrated excellent stamina in getting up here..." (Valina noticed out of the corner of her eye that the monkey's chest puffed out ever so slightly at the comment). A patch of a bookcase shifted, and a man emerged from the shadows. They were thin shadows, as the house faced east and bore the full brunt of the morning sun, but he had managed to fade into the background amazingly well. He had flecks of grey-silver in his hair, a tired face and wore a grey suit. And he did not appear surprised at all.

"May I help you with your enquiries?"

It took the witch a moment to find her voice, but eventually she managed, "I'm not sure…" Most Shuggazoomian citizens would say something more like, "Breaking and entering!" and run at you with anything heavy, hard, sharp or pointy that came to hand. And then they'd wonder what the hell they'd just knocked out, a punk girl and some kind of exotic dog?

He kept a blank, if not vaguely irked, expression. "I would believe the question to warrant a simple 'yes or no' answer, but alright. Let's try again: what did you come here for?"

Valina briefly entertained the idea of lashing out against the man, but stopped when she remembered she couldn't. This was going to take some time to get used to…

The witch looked over to Mandarin expectantly, hinting at him to speak. _This was_ your _plan, not mine, you idiotic corpse! Say something!_ she thought, frustrated.

The simian noticed the look Valina as giving him, but hesitated from saying anything for a few seconds more. If he _had_ stolen anything from this house then he didn't exactly want to converse with the owner. And what of that whole "I isolated this entry point and turned off the security system" bit? It sounded to Mandarin that the man had been expecting them…

The monkey noticed that Valina's gaze was deepening to a glare as the seconds ticked by, and reluctantly answered the man.

"We came for something to retrieve dark powers," he stated bluntly. Hopefully the human would faint from shock or something...

The man's eyebrows rose slightly, but only just enough to be noticed. No more.

"That's a bit of a large request…" he stated slowly. "But I suppose I might find something."

The figure turned his back to them for a moment to face the bookshelf. The small portion of shelf moved, revealing a dark, narrow hallway. He turned back to them briefly and made a small gesture for them to follow. Mandarin and Valina glanced at each other. For once, there was no contempt in either of their gazes. It was more as if they were silently asking the other, "What now?" Following the gentleman was the last thing neither witch nor monkey wanted to do just then. He was so _calm._ So he had to be out of his mind somehow.

But eventually, the pair haltingly trailed behind the man into the shadowy corridor. At least they knew by the hidden passage that this man wasn't ordinary. The bookshelf closed behind them. It was much louder than it should have been.

In a matter of minutes, the three reached a small, square room. There were more bookshelves in this room than the previous; they stretched from wall to wall, and reached up to the ceiling. They were covered in books, almost all of which possessed broken spines, as well as a number of other oddities: Jars of undistinguishable substances, urn-like pots, and what appeared to be several stuffed animals (Mandarin shivered involuntarily as he noticed a long tapeworm-like creature with multiple spindly legs staring at him from the top shelf with shining glass eyes). There were spots cleared on the bookshelves where candles burned, the only thing that offered any light in the room. Wax dripped steadily into the small saucers they rested on.

"I dabble, you see," their guide said by way of explanation. In what, he did not reveal.

The first thing Valina did was to lean surreptitiously towards the nearest shelf and inspect the titles of the books. Some had no text on the spine, but a few had faded gold lettering. In any case, small labels had been pasted to the shelves.

'_Philosophies on the Person_'.

'_Rites and Curses_'.

'_Spells of the Dead_'.

Her eyes widened and she gritted her teeth. She hadn't had a very normal childhood, but even she knew. Normal people did not have this-

The man walked over to a bookshelf and stopped, apparently surveying his options. After a short time, he muttered, "I'm going to need to ask for some details if I am to help you, though…"

Skepticism crossed Valina's face. "What kind of 'details'?"

The silhouette at the bookcase exhaled a bit louder than necessary, but whether or not it was a sigh of frustration or similar was unclear. "_Why_ are you trying to retrieve these 'dark powers'; _Where_ you want to get them from; _What_ kind of 'dark powers' are they; things of that nature…" He turned his head slightly to glance at the ex-witch. "Or are you unable to disclose that information?"

The last question was cold.

Valina's eyes narrowed, and had to remind herself that she _needed_ the human in front of her; she would beat him to a bloody pulp (powers or no powers) only when he failed to provide what she wanted. "No, I'm perfectly capable of relaying the information to you, but would you be _kind enough_"-these two words were hissed- "to tell us some 'details' about yourself?"

The man faced the bookcase again. "Like?"

The young woman crossed her arms. "Your name would be a fabulous start…"

This was waved away. "I've received many names in my lifetime; it would take too long to try to remember them all and giving you only one would be a futile exercise."

Valina already had another question to fire. "Why would you be willing to help us?"

A pause. "Curiosity, I suppose. It isn't every day a woman and her pet crawl two stories up the side of a building to enter through your _terrace_."

Mandarin interjected, "Why did you isolate that particular entrance?"

A slightly longer pause. "Something was…off-balance this morning…something wrong in the air… And when things go wrong, sooner or later they end up on my door-step, so I figured 'What the hell,' and left the security system down on that entry way, to give anyone needing it that option." He glanced back once again. "Why prolong the inevitable, right?"

Mandarin was not overly satisfied with this answer, but Valina spoke before he could press the subject. "How is it you feel you can do anything to improve my situation? What do _you_ know that I don't?"

Perhaps Mandarin was hearing things, but this question sounded a little bitter to him…

The man turned around completely to answer this question. His eyes took on a vaguely…_unhinged_ quality as he spoke. "I got caught in the middle of an…_incident_, many years ago. Nearly killed me… It was probably _supposed_ to kill me, now that I think about it. But for whatever reason, it didn't. It just…altered me, you could say. Instead of dying, I gained the ability to draw dark energy from whatever source it came from." He paused briefly and his brow creased. "Hmph, actually, I withdraw that phrase. I didn't _gain_ the ability to draw dark energy from things; I was _forced_. It was either that, or shrivel away into nothing… I'll let you guess which one I chose."

There was silence for a moment as the man contemplated what he'd said (or perhaps it was simple spiteful remembrance). Very slowly, he turned back around to face the shelf, and continued speaking; his tone even more hushed than it had been a second ago. "I had to learn what I could about dark magic and such. It was a matter of survival…

"I'm afraid I going to have to ask you to hurry up with this little quizzing game of yours; I have quite a few things to do during the day and none involve playing 'Question and Answer' with some scrawny little monkey and a shrill woman. Please just tell me what I need to assist you… And please, do not lie. I'll know."

Valina ignored the 'shrill' remark. "Since you seem well acquainted with such concepts, _sir..._ An evil wizard stole my powers from me," she started. "He pulled us into this…this…_dimension,_ and drained my power. I'm only vaguely sure of how we escaped, and I'm not sure of how to get back to where he is. What's more, I'm not even sure how I would regain my power even if I _could_ get back to where he is…"

"Hmm. That is the hard part, I'll agree." The man selected a book from the bookcase and flipped through the pages briefly. He shook his head, the tome obviously not containing the information he was looking for, and snapped it shut before placing it back on the shelf and moving to a different bookcase altogether. "That wasn't a very complete answer, but I suppose we can work around that… Can you tell me how you first received these ' powers'? It could be as  
simple as going back to the original source…"

Valina was silent.

Once more, the figure glanced back at his 'guests', vague annoyance lingering on his features. "Well?"

Valina swallowed the small, nervous lump that was beginning to take shape in her throat, and muttered, "I first received my powers when I was serving under the Skeleton King…"

The man's eyes almost seemed to widen, there was a split-second's worth of shock in them, but then he glanced to the witch's side, and once again his expression was blank. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he mumbled, "I should've seen _that_ coming, I suppose…"

The young woman cocked an eyebrow, confused, and the man said, "I figured that monkey had something to do with Skeleton King somehow, what with the fact that he can talk and all… And the fact that even though he's obviously malnourished he seems to have no health problems. Skeleton King often had a flair for associating with such demonic little beasts. It would not surprise to me if you 'inherited' the little monster from him, or stole it or whatever else…"

His eyes reached her neckline. "Did you by any chance receive that pendant in the Skeletal Circle?"

Valina glanced at the amulet that hung around her neck. She looked back up, her eyes shining in the dark with suspicion. "How-"

"Never mind, don't answer that. Of course you did." The man met her gaze shamelessly. "As for how, I already told you; I had to learn everything I could about dark magic to survive. The Skeletal Circle had massive amounts of dark energies… So I learned about it.

"And please just answer my question."

The witch shakily nodded "yes."

The man bobbed his head in acknowledgement and turned back to the bookcase yet again, pulling out another book, and looking through it very much the same way he had the previous. The only difference was that this time, when he snapped it shut and placed it back on the shelf, he looked vaguely pleased. "Then I believe I know of a way to help you." He held out his hand. "Give me your amulet."

Valina's hand instinctively flew up to her neck, fingers curled protectively around her pendant.

_To ask for a fellow's pendant, to even peer too close to look at it, was the greatest insult. Do not dishonor your parents..._

"Miss? This is no time to linger." The man sighed, walked over to her and held out his palm once again. He waited until Valina's eyes cleared, and she dropped the amulet into his worn hand.

His other hand closed over it, gave a fierce twisting motion. Weak light filtered out between his fingers, and he opened his hands. A pinkish haze wafted up from the jewel.

Valina caught her breath. "It still works?" The question was breathy and soft. She sounded like a little girl.

"It never really stops. Powers can be cut off, and in that situation a Skeletal Circle member would need friends. This, girl, is a map." The haze settled into clumps in the air. Dots of stronger light hung immobile over the amulet. The man tapped his finger on the surface of the jewel and yellow lines appeared on it, quickly drawing themselves together to form the rough outline of the Shuggazoom landmass. Superimposed on the tiny map were the red spheres of light.

"Those represent the other amulets. You can see over here," the man pointed to a cluster of four spots, "there are several. It must have been a gathering. In downtown Shuggazoom, it seems."

Mandarin spoke for the second time since entering the secret room. "But the Hyper Force-" enmity settled around those words, "-hunted down the entire Circle after the Great War. Some died fighting, others committed suicide and the rest are in jail. They destroyed the amulets and killed the Skeleton King. What possible use could remain in those worthless toys?"

The man looked condescendingly down at the simian. "Destroyed, so they _say_. Have you ever tried breaking one of these?" He turned back to face Valina, looking at her thoughtfully. "And obviously, the Hyper Force seemed to have missed you."

The witch pursed her lips and looked away.

"The amulets remain. And as I have learned, dark energy _cannot_ be destroyed. It is strong, and it places itself into inanimate objects when the user dies. The Skeletal Circle were practically necromancers..."

_That's why I didn't die completely,_ Valina realized. _My magic was still in it. I saved me..._

"If I can find all these amulets, will the energy I take from them be enough to make up my lost powers?" she asked urgently.

The man shook his head. "I'm afraid not. They're stubborn little things; you wouldn't get one iota of magic from them. If the old Circle members were alive, maybe. If they let their guard down..." He coughed suddenly, breaking eye contact with the ex-witch. "That is obviously not an option. However, there is a clear method.

"They were always trying to please their master. Some embarked on their own quests, to supply their master with monsters for his battles." He looked pointedly at Valina. "They were willing to cross _dimensions_ for this."

_"You stupid girl, come on!" _

_She hardly breathed. All these people, gathered in their living room. There were two sisters who kept their heads down and didn't say anything, a man with a black beard and angry eyes. The rest just looked annoyed and impatient._

_"Girl, come here, will you?"_

_Weakling, they all whispered. And to think, the Master chose her..._

_Mama's hand closed around her wrist, dragging. In the center of the floor everyone had laid down their amulets in a circle. She counted them slowly. Twelve._

_"It won't take long, just put your necklace down, dear. Come along."_

_Come...be the thirteenth...close the circle._

"You look as if you know of this ritual," the man's voice cut in.

The ex-witch swallowed, wrinkling her brow. "I do. But I can't remember the spell…_Aperimus...serva-_ Serva-something..."

"_portam aperimus. hodie monstra nos servate. si illi non fideles, portam clausimus,_" the man chanted. "Very old spell, very simple. It requires thirteen amulets to supply energy to open the portal, but fortunately for you, only one person to initiate the spell."

Valina's expression turned sour. "But without my magic-"

"Oh, I daresay you won't need much help. The little beasties weren't upset to see that door. If you take my meaning." He twisted the jewel in Valina's amulet in the opposite direction, and the glowing map winked out.

"I will summarize. You will find twelve more amulets. Place them together, speak the words of the spell and visualize the world you wish to reach in your mind. For as long as the spell is maintained, the two planes of existence will mesh. You and this 'evil wizard' will be on equal ground. It is then that you must strike..."

He waved his hand, turning away. "The rest is your task to sort out. There is nothing more I can tell you. I must request you to leave now. By the door, preferably."

Mandarin grunted, but was willing to depart. Valina backed away, mulling over the plan this man had proposed. So many things...to remember...

_Remember..._

"One more thing, sir," she said loudly. The woman swung sideways, her nails digging into a tome's thick spine. She pulled her arms down and in one smooth motion, _'Spells of the Dead'_ lay open on the dusty floor, pages and bookmarks fluttering. The book was open at a chapter named Advanced Necromancy. Half a dozen paper flags lined the page, underlining key paragraphs.

Valina growled, "Are you or are you not a sorcerer of the Skeletal Circle?"

He had been reorganizing some jars when he heard the book slam to the ground. The man did not flinch, only turned around slowly to look at the woman. Still standing there, arms tense by her side, eyes burning.

"I was wondering when you would notice..." he muttered. "I was Cadel, once." He walked to a low desk on the other side of the room, taking something from a drawer. Cadel's voice became –if possible- even brusquer.

"Now that you know, I feel no qualms about supplying you the second of thirteen." And he dropped a dirty old chain into

Valina's hand, a large gem hanging on the end of it. "They forgot to confiscate it when they cast me out. It nearly drove me mad, having it in my grasp but unable to draw sustenance from it."

The woman nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement, securing the chain to her belt.

Cadel tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't like to linger in the past once I left. But I am honored somewhat, to meet my former master's chosen one." Before Valina could say anything he swiftly turned his gaze to Mandarin. "You stole a small clothes tree from me a bit more than a year ago, and as a result the universe was almost destroyed. I hope you're happy with yourself."

The simian gave an animalistic shriek and put his head down, making to back away.

It was probably for the best to leave now, because the low, dark inner voice had resurfaced again...

* * *

She was doing laundry when it happened. She'd carried the armful of clothing into the closet, locked the closet door behind her, and glanced out the window.

Stealing down her pathway were two ghosts. She watched them carefully, unable to move. They ran together along the road and turned the corner. From their body language, trying not to be seen. Well, they weren't the most inconspicuous pair...

Atalanta sprung into action, her mind was still sluggish in comparison. _They're here...those two things...they're not dead!_ The young woman's thoughts exploded into a raging frenzy.

_How could they not be dead? I checked! What else did I do? It took twenty-seven minutes for my transport to arrive... The mirror, no mist. Stiff as iron. They weren't moving, they hadn't breathed for almost half a bloody hour- Why were they in my house?_

"Foolish girl, idiot!" The woman ran her hands through her black hair, ripping at her ponytail. "Should have buried them! Buried them in the ground!"

Do not panic. Calm, Atalanta, be calm. Rectify this.

"Mercury!" She jogged down the corridor, to the storage room. She found the young man there, cleaning the blades and singing. "Mercury, I need to borrow your sniper kit," she burbled. "And where is my father?"

"Haven't seen your dad all day," he said, eyebrow cocked. "You want my guns?"

"Tell him that I'm going out. Dealing with unforeseen circumstances."

Mercury nodded, setting down his gear.

Atalanta shrugged on a coat and secured her regular tools on her person. She set a cold eye on her companion. "Mercury, find me the most powerful, the most accurate, the most deadly gun we have. Understand? I _must not fail_."

Mercury nearly stepped back from the look Atalanta gave him coupled with the steel in her voice. He nodded. "Right. Failure not an option. Got it."

The young man turned and walked through a small entryway into another room. He returned within moments, carrying a long rectangular case. He set it down on the nearby workbench.

"I _was_ saving this one for myself, but I suppose I can make an exception for you…" he said as he opened the case, offering an impish grin while he did so.

Atalanta crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on the opposite arm as she waited. "Mercury…" she started, ice dancing on her tongue. "_Today_, please..."

Her companion whirled around at that moment, holding the gun in a way that it was obvious he was trying to add flair to his presentation. "Say 'hello' to a target's worst nightmare…"

The gun had a barrel similar to a sniper rifle, the only difference being it was slightly wider, and its scope was similar to a sniper's as well. Basically, it looked _exactly_ like a sniper rifle…except for the cylindrical cartridge filled with a vaguely thick liquid located were the bullets should go, and multiple small buttons on the handle.

Atalanta raised an eyebrow dubiously.

Mercury's grin widened as he fingered the buttons. "Okay, so right now it's a long-range sniper, right?"

The young woman felt a twitch enter her foot, and she tapped it in annoyance, but nodded begrudgingly.

Her companion gave her a lopsided-smirk. "Check this action out."  
A gentle whir sounded as he pressed one of the buttons. The barrel separated into plates and adjusted themselves, scraping lightly against each other, into a much shorter and thicker version of the previous. Mercury looked up at her. "Impressive, no?"

Atalanta stared apathetically. "…What did you do?"

The young man's shoulders slumped. "I switched its modes! This thing has _long_-range snipe, _short_-range snipe, long-range _blast_, short-range bla-"

"Wait," the woman cut in. "Blast?"

Mercury smiled again. "Yup. The works, milady. Plasma, laser, this baby even has a mini tractor beam." The gunman was practically dancing.

Atalanta thought this over for a moment before narrowing her eyes and placing her hands on her hips. "Why have I never seen you use this little toy before?" she asked icily.

The man's smile vanished and was immediately replaced by embarrassment. "Yeah, well…I…didn't want your dad to know about this just yet…"

"Why not?"

Mercury ran a hand through his hair nervously. "The gun isn't exactly…_legal_…yet! It's kind of experimental…and I didn't buy it from that credible a supplier, per se…"

"You got that off the Black Market?" the woman screeched incredulously. Her hands reached for his throat.

"We got most of the other guns off the Black Market!" the gunman countered defensively.

Her glare was blood-chilling. "Yes, but we have a contract of silence with our suppliers! If whoever the hell you bought this from blabs about who he sold it to- Who was it, anyway?"

"A guy! And I wore a disguise!"

"_That's not the point!_" she yelled indignantly. "Mercury, you might have just sent the three of us to jail!"

Mercury opened his mouth, then closed it again and looked down. "I know…_I know_; it was stupid and I shouldn't have done it, it's just…c'mon, a _sniper_-**plasma** gun? I just thought it could help us…" The young man lifted his arms and offered the weapon to Atalanta. "…you still want this…?"

Atalanta hesitated. A part of her wanted to track down her father and tell him everything the Mercury had done. The other part was reminding her that this _was_ the deadliest gun... She knew the first part hadn't really a leg to stand on, so, growling, she snatched the gun from the man's hands.

"Only because I'm in a hurry," she grumbled to him. With that, she turned to leave-

"Wait!"

Atalanta looked back agitatedly.

"Let me come with you…for backup… Or whatever…"

_Trail's getting cold,_ a voice chirped in her mind. "Fine... Grab a gun; on the way you can tell me what the hell these buttons do…"

* * *

"You're leading us in circles, Witch…"

Valina's brow furrowed in annoyance at her minion's comment and looked back to glare at him. "I am not, Simian!"

"Oh? How long have we been walking?" Mandarin asked, his tail curling and uncurling repeatedly, merely because the monkey was suffering from extreme boredom and felt the need to do _something_ other than march blindly behind the witch in front of him.

"Not long enough for you to accuse me of getting lost!" Valina spat.

The simian crossed his arms. "An accusation isn't an accusation if the one making it knows he's right…"

"_Deludes_ himself to _think_ he's right, you mean…" the witch said with narrowed eyes.

Mandarin growled. "If you're not leading us in circles then what would you define it as? Because we've passed that dumpster five times now…" the monkey stated, eyeing the trash receptacle as if it had said something particularly nasty to him as he had walked down the alleyway past it.

"I'm following the map…" the witch grumbled, looking back to the hazy projection that wafted up from the amulet in her hand. The simian scoffed.

"Please! You're following a game of connect-the-dots! You don't even know where we are!"

Valina hissed and jabbed her finger at a yellow line on the stone. "Yes I do! We're right here!"

"How could you possibly know that? I see nothing!"

"Because, you useless monkey, I know Shuggazoom!" she huffed, aggravated, and then attempted an explanation, pointing at the described places with her index finger as they walked. "Look, this is the shoreline here, so that means that _this_ is where Shuggazoom ends and the Zone of Wasted Years starts. We started there and traveled more-or-less this way to that man's house, which would have to be here –the yellow boxes are buildings- and-"

"Is that wall on your 'map'?"

Valina barely stopped in time to avoid walking into bricks. They were at a dead-end.

The witch glanced back down the alleyway, then back at the wall, then at her amulet. "I must have gotten turned around while I was trying to explain this to you…" she hissed, turning back to scowl at the monkey (who grinned smugly back) before walking back down the alley, looking around and trying to orient herself. Mandarin grumbled at the prospect of more aimless wandering around, but eventually chased after his mistress. _She knows the city, pft. _I_ practically ruled it..._

"Well, now what do you propose we do?" he asked grumpily several minutes after catching up. "Get directions from a crossword puzzle?"

Valina growled angrily and, deciding that had been one insult too many and unable to do much more, turned around and stomped the monkey's tail with all her strength.

* * *

_The girl stepped back and placed her chin in her hand to examine her work. _

The figure stood erect and stone-frozen in front of her. But, aha, it is not stone at all... Eyes vacant, a clay-like face that was neither clay nor truly a face. Black and white stripes traced their angles across its body.

On the other side of the fearsome body her sister still concentrated, hands placed over each other and fingers laced. A blue haze came up to her elbows and bathed her face in flat brightness.

"Help me with this last bit, Dia," she said, blinking away the sweat on her brow. Her flaming orange hair was drenched in it.

Dia returned to work, straightening her forearms and pushing threads of white into the rigid figure. The magic settled into a shell around it. The mages lowered their arms and looked at each other.

"Is that it, Li-Anne?" Dia asked uneasily.

Her sister gave a small shrug. She cleared her throat and said to the Formless, "Who is your Master?"

Its grimacing face turned slowly to the flame-headed witch. "The Skeleton King." Its voice was thin but loud, not dissimilar to a key turning in a lock that didn't fit.

"And who are we?" Li-Anne continued.

A pause. Then, "Mistresses Li-Anne and Dia."

"Isn't this too far?" Dia cut in, speaking to her sister. "It's like a robot. Robots can think. Robots are even smarter than humans..."

"The Master wants it," was Li-Anne's simple reply. "We'll destroy it if it doesn't work. Formless, demonstrate to us what you would do to the enemies of the Master. You may use that table as a model." She gestured to a bare table on the other side of the basement.

It turned. It saw. It destroyed.

A stream of black travelled from Formless to target. In an explosion of dark power, the table was incinerated. There wasn't even shrapnel. The Formless turned back to the two women, awaiting new orders.

Dia swallowed hard. Black magic. She had just created the most dangerous undead fighter on the planet...

A thump sounded from up above. "Who could that be?" Li-Anne said irritably.

Dia shrugged and climbed the stairs out of the basement. The violent knocking increased in pace as she neared the front door. The young woman opened it hesitantly, looked out into the street.

"Li-Anne!" she screamed as the black-clad soldiers pushed in. They slammed the door into the wall and bowled the girl over in their urgency to enter. Dia rolled away and sprinted back towards the basement's entrance. "They're with the monkeys!" She screamed again as the squad's leader grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.

He was younger than her, a shock of straw-like red hair on his unhelmeted head. The boy's black enamel armor gleamed and his green eyes were hard. His name was Johnny. His specialised squad's call-sign: Supernova.

"How many people are in this house?" he demanded.

"I haven't done anything wrong!"

"We believe that the Skeletal Circle either uses this dwelling as a meeting place or storage."

"That's impossible. I live here!" Dia said desperately, in tears.

Johnny's smile was unkind. "Exactly."

The witch looked fearfully at the platoon fanning out through the house, waving guns in the air as they searched, and prayed that Li-Anne had closed the basement door.

"I am placing all occupants of this house under arrest and request that you surrender both items of interest and information," the boy said. As he spoke, you could hear the thuds of closing cupboards and wide-spread ransacking.

"You don't have a warrant. I have rights as a citizen of Shuggazoom!" Dia tried again.

"And this," Johnny said sharply, taking her pendant in his hand, "would make you guilty of treason." He attempted to pull it off, but the chain only dug into the girl's neck.

The mage slapped his hand away and hid her amulet with her hands, while Johnny exclaimed, "So the Cincos were right. Damn, didn't know the Circle took 'em so young..."

Tears flowing down her cheeks in angry spurts, Dia pulled her amulet over her head and threw it to the floor. "I'm just a novice! I haven't done anything bad! It was because my parents made me. I promise I've done nothing!"

_"Don't do it, Dia!" _her sister yelled as two agents dragged her up the basement steps.

Dia couldn't look at her. Li-Anne saw her begging.

"Unfaithful," she whispered menacingly. Silence as the soldiers held her.

Dia felt the ice blue creep up on her and cringed.

"Formless! ATTACK!"

Heavy, coal black darkness replaced the blue light, and screams shook the house.

A razor-sharp rush of hatred, the knowledge of exactly what to do settling down like dust. In the tornado of shadows, the mage stretched out her arms and opened her mouth in a gasping breath. She felt almost elated... A shivering thrill crawled up her arm, from where she gripped her black and purple amulet in her pale little hand.

_There's no other way, _she thought faintly as the pitch swirled in front of her eyes.

She brought her hands to her mouth and closed her eyelids. Excruciating pain burst in her mouth instantly. The tender flesh of her cheeks tore. She began to breathe in panicked wheezes, but it hurt to breathe! So much, so much, impossible-

The mage swallowed with difficulty, inhaling blood. She fell to her knees, eyes shut tight; her hands grappled with each other in her spasms.

_One last crazed scream, which caused the spiked pendant to puncture the skin of her throat, and Li-Anne fell onto her back with both hands laid over her bloody neck. _

* * *

The large CAUTION sign was spattered and caked with dirt, and barely held the yellow tinge it had once possessed through the muck, but it was still readable. Large pieces of machinery loomed in a vaguely haunting way as evening began to take form. Mandarin raise an eyebrow.

"A construction site? You're telling me one of those trinkets is somewhere in _this_ mess?"

Valina, thankful the simian had finally said something relating to the task at hand (he'd been whining nonstop after she'd stepped on his tail), nodded faintly as she walked past the sign. "Apparently…"

The monkey's shoulders slumped, but followed the witch into the site regardless.

The witch glanced from side to side as she walked, looking for anything that glinted or shined. She saw various tool boxes, discarded hard hats, work benches, vast amounts of rubble, but no amulets. "What are they even _building_ here, anyway?" she asked no one in particular, feeling frustrated.

"Houses, probably…"

Valina turned to look at Mandarin, who continued, "Looks like an old war-battlefront to me... I think I might have led an attack here at one point." he said, glancing about, apathy resting on his features. "They're probably fixing it now."

"After a year?" the witch asked doubtfully.

"You should know by now how incompetent the citizens of Shuggazoom are…"

Rubble shifted under their feet as they stepped onto it.

"Wouldn't they have cleared this out first if they're trying to fix it?" Valina asked, bored, as she stepped carefully through the wreckage.

"Not necessarily."

"What do you mean 'not necessarily'? Why not?"

Mandarin shrugged. "Too time consuming. They'll probably just even this out and build on top of-"

The monkey was silenced by a bright red flash. Valina squinted though the bright light her pendant gave off. One of the dots on the map was what was flashing. That meant…

The witch's eyes moved about frenetically. It had to be nearby; what else could the light mean? She saw nothing, and felt frustration begin to bubble up inside her again. A piece of rubble moved underneath her foot, and, while attempting to regain her balance, Valina looked down.

It made perfect sense after that.

"It's under the rubble…" she stated simply, then knelt down and began shifting pieces of debris out of her way.

Mandarin attempted to do the same, but every piece he came across was heavy enough that he couldn't lift in one-handed and large enough that he couldn't grip it with his claw. Using both his hand and his claw together was equally ineffective, as the object would just slip against his claw, out of his grip and fall. The only way he was going to do this was with two hands…

The simian glimpsed ruefully at the massive crab claw before bracing himself and allowing it to morph into a hand again.  
Sharp pain shot up his arm, starting at what was now clawed fingertips and working its way up to explode where his arm was originally severed, leaving a trail of numbness behind. Mandarin gripped his shoulder and bit his lip as the cycle began anew, the pain near his shoulder worsening each time.

It stopped eventually, and though the monkey knew the worst was over he also knew that he was going to _ache_ for some time now, and he would probably have some trouble coordinating its movements.

"How long have you been able to do _that_…?"

The simian looked over to see that the witch had paused to stare at him, mouth open slightly. Mandarin growled quietly as he began shifting the pieces of broken buildings and homes. "Since Gibson shattered my old claw and Skeleton King gave me a new arm," he muttered.

Valina paused, then silently went back to work.

Minutes ticked by. Nothing had been found. Mandarin was growing increasingly impatient when he noticed something about the all the debris he was moving. The pile he was working on _dipped_. His initial thought was that it was just an indent in the ground underneath, but his curiosity was piqued nonetheless. He took the pieces out of the pile and dug deeper.

"_Witch!_"

Valina's head snapped up and the monkey's outburst, and she hurried over to where he knelt on all fours.

"What is-?"

The witch saw the small, black hole encased in rubble her minion had unearthed.

"-it…?"

Mandarin stuck his hand into the hole before pulling it back out. "It goes in deeper but there's still rock in the way…"

Valina dropped to knees and began pulling, pushing, and throwing things out of the opening with Mandarin's help. Sounds echoed underground, signaling the mini avalanche of wreckage slipping and falling inside. The rubble had fallen into the opening at an angle, creating a make-shift staircase. After several minutes of work, the pair had unearthed enough of the hole for it to be big enough for both of them to crawl through. The witch poked her head inside and looked about before retreating.

"I can't see a thing…" she muttered crossly. After a second's thought, Mandarin took off.

"Where are you going?" Valina called after him. She got no reply.

The simian returned moments later, and upon returning he promptly shined a light in her eye. The witch blinked and angrily snatched the item he was shining at her out of his hand. It was a flashlight. She looked up at him curiously and began to speak, but he waved it away.

"I broke into one of the toolboxes," he explained. Valina nodded curtly and crept through the gloomy opening.

Crawling, the witch inched downwards carefully until her feet touched solid ground. Mandarin followed after, but his artificial arm slipped out from under him as he crawled, causing him to tumble down and land face-first on the floor.

He pushed himself up to his knees and noticed Valina shining the light on him, smirking faintly.

"…Graceful…"

Mandarin snarled and wiped at the blood leaking from his nose. "Shut up, Witch."

Valina stood up to her full height and began to shine the flashlight around, pointing it in random directions. To her surprise, it was a little room. A dusty, dirty, broken room, but a room in essence. There were a few small tables, chairs, what appeared to have once been a television-

The beam of straw-colored light settled on something lying near the far wall, and Valina gasped, allowing the flashlight to clatter to the ground.


	8. Corpses and Party Crashing

The flashlight rolled back and forth, as the dim light rocked across the opposite wall with it.

Mandarin's head had snapped up at the sound of the light hitting the floor, and he instinctively looked up at Valina first. Her eyes were wide, and both hands were placed over her mouth. She stood rigidly, utterly frozen.

The monkey then quickly followed the beam of light with his eyes to find what had caused the witch to behave in this way-

The flashlight settled, and Mandarin's mouth went completely dry.

The eyes were half-lidded, and vacancy clouded them. The skin was pale to the point it held a bluish-tinge, and the long, slender body was stiff as boards. The hands were clutched tightly around the neck.

The hair was so orange it practically made Mandarin look yellow in comparison; it was frizzy, and there was lots of it, and Valina would've recognized it anywhere.

* * *

_The girl had never liked how quiet the labyrinthine halls were. In fact, it scared her a bit._

She liked it much less when she was alone. Valina brushed a strand of red hair out of her face as she glanced nervously up and down the corridor. She was supposed to become acquainted with the Skeletal Circle's great chamber, because she'd be spending a lot of time there. At least, that's what Mama said…

She wasn't quite lost yet, but she was beginning to feel anxious being so far away from any other members. If she did get lost, there would be no one around to ask directions from... She could be lost for days, or for the rest of her life…

That thought made her shudder, and the girl was just about to turn back when the rustling of a cloak made her spin to the right. There was another hallway in this direction, and in the mouth of it a girl only a few years her senior leaned, arms crossed. She had frizzy orange hair that poured past her shoulders, and caught the light of the torches that surrounded them and it glowed. Her eyes were powder-blue, clear and piercing.

In a moment of girlish naïveté, all Valina could think was, _I wish I was that pretty…_

Neither said anything for a moment, then finally the girl said, "I suppose you think you're pretty special, don't you?" her lip movements were over-exaggerated and each word was sharp, no doubt to simply make the question more snide.

Valina felt as if someone had punched her in the gut.

The girl continued, "Just because your parents are leading the Circle doesn't mean the Master will care about you, you know. Don't expect special treatment just because you're the Cincos' daughter!"

The young girl stuttered, "I-I never-never wanted special-"

The child opposite of her smirked suddenly, and interrupted, "Do you know what the traditional welcome for novices is in the Skeletal Circle?" She stepped forward, and Valina backed away.

The girl shook her head disapprovingly. "I can't even understand why the Master let you join the Circle. You have no _backbone_… You won't even defend yourself…"

The redhead stopped retreating.

"He won't want anyone as worthless as you-"

_Valina took a step forward, closing the gap between the two girls, and backhanded the other female to the ground. The young girl then turned on her heel, stomach churning fiercely with shock at what she just did, and ran down the hallway, leaving her new adversary to press her palm to her flaming red cheek as she knelt on the ground. _

* * *

"I knew her…" Valina whispered quietly.

Mandarin's eyes darted back to the witch. "What?"

"I knew her." the sorceress repeated. "She was in the Skeletal Circle. She- her family- they were in charge of creating new spells... She…" The woman trailed off her disjointed sentence to stare at the lifeless body on the ground in front of her.

The monkey stared up at the witch in silence, and then glanced back over at the dead woman on the ground. It was actually a bit unnerving… Not necessarily the body; he'd seen worse in Dark One Worm, and ones in worse shape, too. But he didn't like the way she was clutching her throat … And the fact that Valina had known her made it even eerier…

"Where's the amulet?"

The sorceress snapped out of her stupor at the simian's voice. Numbly, she fumbled with her own amulet, and brought up the map. The small red light blinked, brighter than before, directly in front of them.

"She's got it…"

Neither party made an effort to move forward. Mandarin said after a while, "Is that why she has her hands around her neck?"

The witch nodded. "Skeletal Circle members are taught to be very protective of their amulets…"

There was another brief silence. The pair looked at each other and Valina made a small movement with her head for the monkey to go get the item of desire. The simian made a face that was made up of both disgust and an "Are you kidding me?" look and shook his head slightly. The witch glared and repeated to jerk her head in the direction of the deceased, a little more forcibly this time. Mandarin glared back and shook his head again, like the witch, with more distinction. Valina growled and took a step towards the monkey, balling up her hands and raising a fist at him. Mandarin took a step back, then huffed with indignation and trudged forward. While the witch couldn't hurt him (much) now without her powers, he decided it still wasn't worth it to invoke her wrath.

Mandarin had been called by his prison guards –among other things- a soulless mercenary. But he had never in his existence looted bodies. There was no time for that in war.

The monkey stepped forward cautiously. He tried not to look in the dead girl's eyes; for whatever reason the vacancy gave him chills. This was frustrating for him, as this type of thing had never bothered him before. Slowly, he pried her hands from her neck, uncurling each finger, and gently pulling the appendage away. But when he reached to her neck to take the amulet…

…it wasn't there.

The simian's eyes widened in the dark. "Witch, it isn't here."

"WHAT?"

"It's not here."

"What do you mean 'it's not here'? Where else could it be?"

The sorceress went into a rant at that point, panic beginning to set in. Mandarin heeded very little of it. His hand remained on the girl's throat. Something felt...peculiar…

"Witch… Witch!"

Valina halted her tirade at the monkey's voice. "What?"

"Toss me that flashlight"

"What for?"

"Just do it..."

Grumbling to herself, the witch picked up the flashlight off the ground and did what was asked of her, throwing it at the simian gently. The monkey caught it one-handed and shined it on the dead female's neck.

In the dim light, Mandarin saw several points on the woman's neck jut out slightly. The lumps looked bruised, like something was poking at it from the inside-

"Witch, I think she…swallowed it…"

Valina's brow furrowed worriedly. "The…the amulet? She _swallowed_…?"

The simian nodded.

"Well…get it out…"

The monkey turned around to look at the sorceress.

"Excuse me?"

"Impertinence!" The witch scowled and crossed her arms uneasily. "I said, get it out."

Mandarin glared at the sorceress before turning back. He fidgeted discretely with his claws for moment before placing the flashlight on the ground and slowly reaching forward. He placed a single claw at the very top of the woman's throat, right under her chin, and added just enough pressure to break the skin. A drop of dark, aged blood appeared at the tip of the talon and the monkey gradually pulled it down. A vicious line of red trailed behind. Once the incision was long enough, the simian slowly separated the skin, though discomfort betrayed his actions. A dark jewel shimmered dully back.

Both the witch and the monkey shuddered as he pulled it free.

The moment the amulet left the corpse, the body fell apart. The hair fell from the scalp, and the skin began to peel up and curl like paint; the chest and stomach caved in. In the following moments, a year of decay occurred. The bones, teeth and hair remained in a lopsided heap, though the tresses were now dry and withered.

Valina gagged and covered her mouth at the stench. Mandarin coughed and scuttled backwards from what was left of the mage.

The monkey stopped at his mistress's feet, still clutching the bloodied amulet. After a moment, he said, "Let's go…"

The witch nodded absentmindedly as her minion scurried up the rocks and out through the small hole they'd entered through. Valina took one last glance back at the disintegrating body of her former colleague, and followed Mandarin back up to the surface.

The dim light of the flashlight shone on the body of the Skeletal Circle member, getting dimmer as minutes ticked by, until eventually there was no light left at all…

* * *

"Her name was Li-Anne…"

"What?"

The pair had found a small water pump nearby, used by the construction-workers to clean up before lunch, perhaps. The monkey was currently using it to rinse off blood from the amulet they'd acquired. He looked over his shoulder at the witch incredulously.

"That girl…down there…" Valina waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the hole they'd crawled out of. She sounded distant. "Her name was Li-Anne…"

She chuckled lightly as the monkey stared. "How she hated me."

Mandarin raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure how to take the information. "Oh. I see…?"

The sorceress hugged her arms closer to her body and looked at the ground. "She always said...the Master would never want someone like me…" she mumbled, almost dejectedly. _I was the bride of Death. What has changed that now I feel pity for a dead person who had never shown me kindness or approval? _

The look on the witch's face reminded the monkey of how she'd looked when she told him her powers had been stolen. _Oh no, _he thought. _Don't tell me she's going to get all emotional over this, too…_

Mandarin shook his head and groaned audibly. "Look, Witch… The Skeleton King himself killed you, and you bounced back from that. This _Li-Anne_ person, from the looks of it, killed herself-"

"Killed herself…?"

"Well, the alternative is someone forced her to swallow her own amulet, which I find highly unlikely." Mandarin growled in frustration and turned back to the pump, speaking the last of his sentence so quickly the words spilled from his mouth. "Witch, she obviously didn't have the will you have if she was willing to die such a disgraceful death."

The sorceress blinked, dumbfounded, and let out an unimpressive, "Wha…?"

The monkey finished rinsing the pendant and began to shake the excess water off. "There is no more disgraceful way to lose your life than to take it by your own hand, Witch… You were murdered; you kept your honor. She brought about her own demise and she lost any nobility she had…or thought she had, or..." He was silent after this.

Valina stared for a moment longer, his comment throwing her for a loop as her comment earlier had done to him. "Well…That was suspiciously against your nature. Very much so."

"I didn't want to have to listen to you complain," Mandarin answered honestly, turning around and extending his hand to the witch, offering her the amulet. The sorceress reached out to take the item from him, then remembered where it had been, and pulled her hand away.

"Why don't you just hold onto that for a while?" she suggested. With that, Valina pulled out her own amulet, activated the map within, and started off towards the next object with Mandarin behind, regretting that he had ever said a remotely gentle word to her.

* * *

It was horribly, disgustingly colorful. Someone had decided to buy strobe lights in bulk. There were pink lights in the fountain, highlighting the liquid spew of fish statuettes. Blue and green lights sat behind the white lettering, proclaiming the building's name. In outrageously curly font, the _Golden Palace._ It was the oldest wedding reception provider in the city, dealing specially in interstellar cuisine.

No one paid her much attention as she stomped into the foyer. She was going over the story in her head. _I know what I'm doing. I am frustrated and angry. I am looking for a friend inside. I will not let any pushy staff stop me._ Valina glanced down at her amulet, which was currently tied to her left wrist. Lots of youths had holographic watches. It was meant to be stylish.

One scarlet dot. Up the staircase with the fake gold-leafed banisters, then. Already, Valina could hear the singing. Did they refuse utterly to employ reception singers of even miniscule ability? Cheap interstellar labor. Those accents did not help "I Will Always Love You" sound better.

Staff dressed in black waistcoats hurried past, yelling at each other about cocktails. One or two raised an eyebrow at her undoubtedly informal dress, but no one demanded to see her invitation.

She didn't know this song. Ha, Valina had never had much of an opportunity to appreciate music. Perhaps it would have been nice to take things slowly. Dress in something that wasn't black, wear her hair up and paint her nails, maybe. To listen to music. There was a chance, just a chance, that she would have been satisfied with that.

She faltered on the top step. White and cream marble spun beneath her feet.

What was stopping her now? She was, essentially, mortal. She could stop. She could turn around and go. Somewhere! Anywhere! Did she really need magic to live life?

"Yes," she said, gripping the banister for support. She did not add, "Or I'll die."

"One more," Valina breathed. Then she would see. The double doors were, as expected, a positively golden affair.

It was a wedding reception. A _happy_ wedding reception.

Valina spun into a corner as the doors swung together. To add to the appearance, she tapped her foot and glared down at her 'watch'. A tap with a finger on the surface of the jewel magnified the map. Illuminated in yellow lines, ahead and to the right was a medium-sized alcove. A glance upwards told her that it was the toilets.

The sign indicating the bathroom could only be described using the word, 'goodness!' A thick black line divided the pink female drawing from the blue male one. She was standing upright and primly on her side, but the blue figure had his hands hanging onto the black partition, legs braced against the wall and his head poking above.

The dot in the haze began to flash. The target was on the move.

Valina burst out of the shadows, running alongside the wall until she came to the alcove. She stepped right and kept running.

"Whoa!" the bridesmaid yelled grumpily. Blinking champagne-dulled eyes, the woman took in the wavering shape of Valina in front of her. "Who told you it was a fancy dress reception, hon?" she asked, a smeared-lipstick sneer on her face. "I would lend you my dress, but that would, like, leave me butt naked..."

For a long time, Valina could only stare with her jaw slack.

"Watch where you're going, sweetie. Hey, are checking out my tits or something?" The tipsy bridesmaid turned up her nose when she noticed Valina's frozen gaze.

"It's just-" Valina painted a doll-like smile onto her countenance. "That necklace is so pretty. It doesn't match your dress, though. Ivory doesn't go with that. May I see it, though?"

The woman held her shoulders up proudly. "Got it from my nana. Been in the family for four generations."

_Did I ask for where you got it from? _Valina thought wearily.

She banished all thoughts of mortality as she punched the bridesmaid in the nose.

The woman shouted, "Bloody hell!" and fell into the wall with a thump. Valina braced her hand against the bridesmaid's shoulder and pulled off the pendant.

The ex-sorceress shoved the woman back through the bathroom door and spun round, walking briskly to the exit.

"Bloody hell, crazy bitch! Bloody, bloody hell! My make-up!" echoed the female toilets.

* * *

Black claws drummed impatiently as the simian crouched behind a large flower arrangement. The witch was taking much longer than she should have. She had her "map"; she should've found the thing and taken it already! Mandarin huffed edgily. He didn't understand why women insisted on always doing things the _hard way. _Valina had ordered him to remain hidden near the exit of the building unless either saw her leave (in which case he was to follow behind as soon as no one was looking) or she came to get him to help retrieve the amulet. Which was to say, someone was giving the witch problems and she couldn't handle them the "mortal" way…

The simian looked up at the ceiling of the foyer, mostly because the vibrant, clashing colors of the flower arrangement were making his eyes ache. It was pitiful, really... Him having to wait for Valina to come tell him to assist her, that is… He, who'd once been a general to the great Skeleton King, was now nothing more than some pathetic female's _backup... _

Something stirred within his thoughts. _She isn't looking... Why don't you leave? _

Mandarin's brow creased. Oath of loyalty or not, he still desperately wished to leave the witch behind. He'd done more treacherous things in his lifetime; he didn't see how abandoning someone who mentally and physically abused him should be so terrible.

The monkey growled quietly, before silently whispering, "Because I don't have a choice…"

A voice that was unfamiliar to him sneered, _Yes you do. You're just too weak and pathetic to grasp it. _

A noise down the hall resonated, pulling Mandarin from his thoughts. It seemed to be muffled speech, and the monkey became curious. The simian listened intently, telling himself that anything -even a human's lamenting drivel (or whatever might be being talked about there)- _had_ to be more interesting than just sitting where he was.

He didn't acknowledge the hope that if he was listening to others talk the voice in his head that was not his would go away.

The monkey was only able to catch bits and pieces of the conversation, and what he could hear he couldn't make sense of. He was about to give up listening, when he heard the broken phrase, "…get in…shoot…get out…"

For a few seconds the simian grappled with himself whether or not he should leave his post. _You don't know what they're talking about. For all you know they're talking about shooting a ball for a game of some sort. If Valina leaves and you aren't here to see it-_

The thought was fiercely retaliated by both the sudden urge to disobey the witch, just for a moment, just so he could prove she didn't have total control over him, and the feeling deep in his gut that told him that it was absolutely necessary -perhaps even _vital_- that he find out what the people down the hall were talking about.

Glancing up and down the corridor he was currently sitting in, the monkey silently crept down the hall, looking about for any movement and for something to dart behind should someone come down the passage he traveled through.

Mandarin came to the end of the hall, and almost rounded the corner when he heard the speaking again. He froze, pressing himself closer to the wall as he listened, only daring to peek out around the corner.

It was a woman, tall, young, black hair pulled into a ponytail, with one hand pressed to her left ear. She spoke low and harshly, apparently into a device of some sort, standing on a table messing with the cover of the ventilation system. "Are you _sure_ you've disabled any alarms?"

Pause.

"How about the lockdown system?"

Pause.

"I don't know why a wedding would have lockdown sensor in the vents! But just- What? Fine. Yes, I'm entering it now… Remember to put the cover back on after I go. Yes, I'll take care of your stupid gun!"

The woman finally succeeded in removing the cover, and turned around halfway to check over her shoulder. The monkey bit back a gasp. It was the assassin. The one that had killed him! Him and…

Mandarin noticed the gun the woman held for the first time. Why was she going into the vents…?

_Because you can move through buildings without being seen in vents. _

Valina was still in the building.

The simian tensed as he watched the woman heft herself into the dark shaft and crawl off into the shadows. Mandarin growled to himself, then almost subconsciously bounded after the young female into the vents.

* * *

An assassin looked through the sights of her gun. Tracking them down hadn't been easy. It had been four hours until one of their sources had reported a sighting. Things had been...complex.

She'd had to slice through the metal air conditioning vent with a laser. Mercury had switched off the building's air-con, so she could sit in what remained of the rectangular tunnel and aim her gun through the vent in the ceiling. Dust everywhere. Her target was in the corner. Foot tapping, looking up irritably.

_She looks so much like me. _

No, no thoughts. Isolated, no one's noticed she's there. Fine.

She was jogging away! Atalanta's jaw set. The gun's barrel followed the figure.

Match for speed, get ahead, too fast. _Shoot, you stupid girl! _

The woman in black disappeared into the corridor.

"Mercury, I missed the shot," Atalanta said aloud.

The radio receiver in her ear responded, _"You think I can shoot through walls with perfect aim and not have anyone notice? Okay, I can do the first bit, but if I do we'll have to massacre an entire wedding. And you know, I'm regretting my choice of undercover. These speakers are LOUD and this singer is CRAP." _

Atalanta swept her eyes to the focal point of the room. Mercury sat unhappily behind a full drum kit. "I thought you always wanted to be a rock star," she began. "Coming out!" She became all business again, training the gun to the woman striding out of the alcove. No waiting this time. Her finger moved against the trigger-

There was a scuffling sound behind her, and then a rough movement.

The assassin twisted around to confront her attacker. It was dark, but she could see two glowing eyes. She leveled her gun at it, knowing that if she was quick the window might still be open-

-and the gun flew out of her hands.

She could not stifle a yell of surprise. It echoed in the tight, metallic space, where there was now a total absence of glistening eyes. "It stole my gun." Three seconds. That was all it had taken.

It'd just torn off her boot. The skin wasn't broken and she was unhurt, but still: It had stolen her boot! And Mercury's precious gun on the side... She groaned softly. What would her father say?

_"What?" _crackled the voice of Mercury.

Atalanta snapped out of her awed daze and looked out through the slits of the vent.

"Mercury, take the shot! Take the shot!"

_"This damn singer is in my way!" _

Mercury's hand reached for his holster, while his other arm drew back. All of a sudden the compressed energy in his muscled exploded into a vicious throw.

"IIIIIIII...will always loooooove yo-" stopped abruptly. The singer looked down at her chest, where the pain was coming from. What the badly-paid soprano saw was a bloody end of a drumstick protruding from in between the cups of a stuffed bra. She said, "-ou?" and fell to her knees.

The male assassin pointed his weapon at the figure heading for the door and tensed himself for the kickback. It was a big gun.

It was at this moment in time that he toppled sideways like a doll knocked off a shelf, and smashed his face on a speaker. Mercury rolled over and thrust a punch up at a red face. The face of the _real_ drummer.

"Atalanta? I'm in trouble."

* * *

She had no choice now. Atalanta shuffled back and kicked hard at the air vent covering. It came loose, turning over a few times before it fell onto the bald head of man, who'd been enjoying a canapé.

Atalanta jumped down through the hole after it. She found her stolen boot on the floor where the monkey had dropped it from another vent. She wedged her foot back into it, taking no heed of the astonished wedding guests. A stroke of luck: This table was the one closest to the door. She found her footing and made a flying leap at the gilded exit.

The silvery material of a cape bunched in her hand. The woman wearing it whirled around instantly, hands up in fists, just in time to block a swinging blade.

Atalanta changed the direction of her blow and swiped downwards instead.

"You!" Valina hissed, blood appearing in a line on her forearm. She shot the assassin a dark look and jerked backwards to the door.

Atalanta followed, until the double doors slammed together with a thunderous boom. She collided into them full on. Ostentatious gold stabbed into her vision mercilessly.

The doors opened again suddenly and Valina chopped at her knife arm. The blade went sliding away, onto the marble floor outside.

She raised her head blearily. "When I kill you this time, stay dead!" Atalanta snarled as she drew another knife and ran.

"Don't you get it, girl? Your cutlery doesn't work on me!" the former witch yelled. Knowing that her opponent was now acting out of rage, she simply stepped aside when the knife came by, albeit with a broad step. Another fierce chop caught Atalanta on the back of the neck as she flew past.

The inside of Atalanta's head rocked and blurred. Her second knife tumbled end over end down the stairs.

She's almost beaten me! Damn her!

She was angry. She knew that. She had lost two of her knives in less than two minutes. Shameful...

"DIE!" Atalanta drew herself upright and launched a spinning kick. For the smallest of seconds, a look of surprise on Valina's face as the kick sent her back into the wedding reception. Atalanta followed, heaving in shallow breaths.

"You don't look like much of a survivor," she sneered, feeling the air slap into her back as the double doors closed.

Valina stood stiffly between the assassin and the tables. Black and red hair hanging into her eyes, the witch said slowly, "I've...had...practice!"

The assassin ducked under a china salad dish as it sped towards her and went in for a roundhouse kick. It would have shattered bones, if Valina hadn't grabbed her ankle and twisted. Atalanta lost her balance and fell to one knee; the witch was aiming a kick at her stomach.

Forcing her leg out of the witch's grip and rolling away, Atalanta leapt back to her feet. The people at the table were beginning to run away, curiosity spent. She spied a full set of utensils on the table, snatched.

Atalanta could have gotten a steak knife, or at least a large fork. Forks were good. No, she had to pick up the _chopsticks! _

Valina turned and faced the dark-haired woman angrily. Her fist was a blur as it headed for the neck.

Atalanta saw this, and with a lightning flick of the wrist, beat the chopsticks into Valina's forearm. The sorceress tried an uppercut. Atalanta frantically employed the pair of chopsticks again to divert the attack. She kept the momentum and swung the witch's arm across her body. It should have stopped Valina from punching again quickly and leave her back exposed.

It didn't. "Is that all, girl?" Another black blur, but it didn't connect. The young woman had dodged and now slid behind Valina, elbow jutting out.

Valina had enough time to blink and sniff once, until instinct took control and she staggered forward. A hot sensation ignited around her shoulder blades. Driven with all the raging force of the assassin, the wooden chopsticks had gouged twin lines of skin off her back.

"Well," Valina murmured, music, lights and shouts warping around her, "if you insist on playing with your dinner, my dear..." She whirled around, leg poised, whipped her shin into Atalanta's ribs.

The assassin grunted -having failed to anticipate a kick- and rocked backwards. In that moment of instability, Valina struck with elbows and knees. The girl batted away the upper hits, trying to protect her head. The chopsticks in her hands waved uselessly in the air. She jumped backwards and shook the hair out of her eyes, trying to orient herself-

Tears sprung involuntarily to her eyes as a vicious right hook caught her in the nose. This did not help. Blood ran onto her lip and her cheekbone began to ache. The strike had come from the side and mostly scraped into her cheek; thankfully her nose wasn't broken yet.

Atalanta wasn't sure of this, and thus lashed out blindly with her elbow. Her entire arm jarred as it met Valina's...something. No further attack came as she wiped the moisture from her vision. She saw the witch cradling her jaw, opening and closing it experimentally.

The remained still for a long moment, staring at each other's eyes. They saw in each other fury and abandon. Atalanta knew that this did not make you unstoppable. Rather, it made you very dangerous and very tireless, for a very short time.

Valina was standing behind an upturned chair. The table was within reach. A glass of wine on its side, two plates, one with some slices of meat on it, and a full cutlery set. Her eye flicked towards the ridged knife lying next to the meat.

Silently, speedily, Atalanta loped forward, holding the pieces of carved wood as she would her normal daggers. She aimed for the eyes, those vulnerable eyes which were turning back and looking at her again, absolute certainty glinting in them...

Something pierced her and she roared in pain. She could feel the blood seeping into her black clothes. Her head was suddenly fuzzy and she felt like throwing up.

Swaying, Atalanta staggered backward. She was tempted to pull it out, but some remnant of training cried out against it. _Don't take it out, you'll only lose more blood... _

"Security! Damn it, someone call the police! POLICE, for God's sake!"

"And an ambulance," someone said; it was muzzy and almost incoherent.

It had entered above her left collarbone. It was a particularly weak spot, right near the artery...which supplied blood to her brain... She wouldn't have been surprised if that artery had been severed already. Her chest felt warm, but how cold her hands were now...!

She strained to look at the bloodied chopstick embedded in her shoulder- No, it was her neck. Or _was_ it her shoulder? In between? What did it matter... The assassin looked at it, and smiled ruefully.

"_Bon appétit, _my dear," someone whispered.


	9. GrandTheft Auto and a Haunted House

Through the entrance of The Golden Palace a figure appeared. It stopped on the threshold to take in its surroundings. When the figure had first arrived, the sun was almost set, pink fingers clawing at the tops of the city buildings. Now the suggestion of the moon was there amidst the purple quilt of sky.

This figure ran down to street level, eyes searching for something. By now a second shape had emerged from the doors, slinking behind the first. The first figure ran across the road and the other followed.

A dull grey car was parked on this street. It was of an odd make, halfway between a sports car and an all-terrain vehicle. The car's body was slanted and aerodynamic, but its wheels were large with deep grooves. The figure put her face against the driver's window, then made her way to the bonnet decisively.

The second shape approached a little more slowly, watching the woman plunge her hands into the car's engine parts.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

A mechanical grumble served as a reply. Now the car pulsated with energy. Valina's head reappeared as she closed the bonnet. "Get in."

The monkey tried the passenger door, but it remained shut. Valina gave the front bumper a kick and opened her door with ease.

Mandarin sat awkwardly on the grey leather seat. A shocked kind of awe came into his voice as he asked, "How did you learn to do that?"

The witch put her hands on the wheel and said flatly, "Call it a troubled youth," and murdered the bitumen.

* * *

Mercury stared at the body at his feet. Ignoring the people clustering around it, he bent and lifted the girl's head onto his knee. As he did so he thought he heard a faint, "Arghh."

_Okay, so she's alive._

The girl's eyes opened blearily, focused on Mercury. One corner of her mouth twitched in a smirk. She seemed about to say something. Mercury brought his head down to hers and heard, "Go after them, will you..."

It was weak and thin, barely a breath. Blood dripped from the entry wound and soaked her entire shoulder. Her pale skin was growing paler, her grey-lidded eyes adding to the macabre visage.

"No way." Mercury did his best to gently drag her across his knee. "Your dad," he put his arms under her shoulder blades and knees, struggled to rise again, "would absolutely, positively kill me."

Some members of the crowd uttered protests, along the lines of, "We should wait for the ambulance!" but others countered with, "Get someone with a mop here and let's carry on." The absence of the band's lead singer was not brought up, and things were overall quite peaceful for the rest of the night.

As she was carried through the foyer, Atalanta managed to murmur, "Lost...gun." Her strength was draining away; this normally would have enraged her.

Mercury's steps slowed as he absorbed this piece of information, but he said, "That's okay." Atalanta made a tiny noise of acknowledgement and closed her eyes to rest.

The young man shook a lock of fair hair out of his eyes and kicked open the main door. He made his way across the street, and when he stopped his eyebrows knitted together.

"Where's my car?"

* * *

Tires squealed as they turned on the asphalt, with the sound of the engine roaring underneath the noise. Mandarin sat rigidly in his seat, claws piercing the leather material, as he tried not to be thrown about by the vehicle's constant rotating.

"Witch, I thought you said you could _drive_ this thing!"

Valina, who was at the moment trying to maneuver the car through the streets with some difficulty, chanced a glare in the monkey's direction.

"And so I can!" at that moment, however, a car chose to turn in front of them, causing Valina to swerve abruptly, and nearly careen head-long into a lamppost. The witch stomped on one of the pedals, accelerated, stomped another pedal, jerked to a halt, then started up once again, just barely missing the post and returning to the traffic.

"Then what was _that?_"

With a grunt, Mandarin threw his purloined firearm into the glove box. He preferred to have something between him and the barrel if the car's jolting made it go off. Mandarin shut his eyes. Much more of this and he was going to be sick…

Valina grumbled and glanced at the colorful smorgasbord of buttons and levers in front of her with a mix of frustration and worry. "They changed the damn model on me…"

The monkey opened his eyes and just stared at the witch for a while, letting the idea that the woman had essentially no clue what she was doing sink in, before slowly reaching up and clicking his seatbelt.

The action did not go unnoticed. Valina scowled. "I'm not going to crash, Monkey!" she barked, answering his silent accusation. "And even if I _did_, a seatbelt wouldn't help you anyway! You're so short the airbag would snap your neck when it came out!"

Mandarin had once again closed his eyes. "I'd rather not smash into the windshield, either, Witch!"

The sorceress would have retorted, but it had come to her attention that they were coming up to some turns, and she felt it would be in her best interest to pay attention.

* * *

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that cell supposed to be inescapable?"

The person this question was directed to screwed up his face for a long moment. "Can't really remember. Inescapable, _virtually_ inescapable... A lotta people don't pay attention to the difference."

The two men stared into the now empty cell. It was small, dark, damp, guarded by cannons and Perspex, and unequivocally _empty._ The second man, gnawing on a toothpick, nodded thoughtfully. "I'd put my money on 'virtually' right now."

The first of the two was a bit younger than his partner (in his early-thirties, as opposed to his colleague's late-forties), with dirty blonde hair. He scowled at the empty chamber. "Yeah, well, apparently the top brass told the Hyper Force it was inescapable. That's why they put the little son-of-a-bitch here in the first place..."

The older of the pair's brow creased. "That's what they told Joey, too. And look what happened to him…

"Do you really think that little asshole is the one that did him in?"

The first, who went by the name of Markus, glowered at his associate. "Who else coulda done it? Who else would want to? What'd Joey ever do to anybody?"

The older one, Samuel, nodded, and said nothing more.

After a few moments the silence was broken by the frantic shuffling of footsteps coming down the hallway. A youth, only about twenty-three if he was a day, was scrambling down the hall, wide-eyed.

"Guys, guys!" he started, out of breath. "Guess- Guess what!"

Markus stared at the young man stonily, not even bothering to roll his eyes. "What do you want, Charlie?"

"We got a mission!" Charlie exclaimed excitedly. "We get to go after the escaped con!"

Samuel took out the toothpick from his mouth, throwing it to the floor in anger. "Sounds good to me. I wanna give the little bastard somethin' for what he did to Joey…"

Markus nodded in silent agreement, but Charlie didn't notice either reaction.

"Can you believe it? We _finally_ get a chance to see some of the action this time! Man, when I see that twerp, I swear I'll bust him up so bad I won't have to hang around no back-water prison no more…" The young man continued to go on about how he was planning to 'take the escapee down' while his companions gathered supplies...

* * *

"Where to now?"

Valina had her arms ramrod straight, staring ahead. She was getting the hang of this. The witch could feel the four amulets on her belt swing and clatter together as the car turned. Valina patted them –trying to suppress a shiver as her hand passed over the pendant she knew to be Li-Anne's- until she found her chain. She twisted the jewel and glanced down at its surface.

"Downtown," she said, hauling on the steering wheel to make a U-turn. "Kill four birds with one stone."

The vehicle jarred as Valina hit the curb. She muttered vehement curses, reversed, and went on her way.

The change was gradual, but there was a point where Mandarin and Valina looked at their surroundings with a measure of confusion. The buildings were in poor condition and crowded together. In the evening light they all looked muted and grey; even the litter on the paths was colorless. The same view stretched onwards for who knew how long. It was Shuggazoom's miserable collection of ghettos.

Instinctively, Valina eased off on the pedal, traversing the street slowly.

Not a soul stirred in the entire neighborhood.

* * *

_One day, a man heard marching in the street. It came from the end of the road, heading towards his house. He crept to his window and parted the heavy curtain._

Black armor. Masked men. The Exterminators.

With a start the man shouted to his wife. Take the children downstairs. Hide. He ran to the cupboard in the living room, took the amulets out. The safe was in the wall behind the bookcase. Unfortunate proof, all unfortunate proof...

There was a great thundering at the door. The wood was buckling.

He didn't get to the safe.

In the cellar, his wife gathered her children in her arms. She closed her eyes and wished.

_The little boy and girl screamed as the door fell..._

* * *

One more kick and the door fell. Valina and Mandarin stepped over the broken door, looking into dank shadows. It was a sparsely furnished room. A lounge, a small television, a cupboard and a bookcase against one wall. Dust covered everything, and Valina wrinkled her nose.

"There's something strange here," she muttered. There was a cluster of glowing points in the haze above her map. "They're in the corner of the room. Close together," she told the monkey. Valina didn't move. "And be quick about it," she added sharply.

Mandarin growled in his throat and slunk forward. But Valina was right: There was something odd in the very material of the building. A kind of frozen tension hung in the air.

He loped around the lounge and saw them lying on the carpet, their chains tangled up. Four amulets.

Mandarin snatched them up and he and his mistress were quick to depart.

* * *

The hum of the engine was even and low. A little too constant for Valina's liking, perhaps. So many things had happened. The witch had been resurrected, taken to a death-realm, been chasing people for things she wasn't entirely sure what to do with... It was night-time, and Valina was sleepy for the first time in as long as she could remember.

She had to crease her forehead and peer into the darkness ahead. Streetlights and the reflective white stripes on the road sped past.

_I need a rest,_ she thought. _How long has it been since I wanted one of those?_

Almost unconsciously, she brought the car to a stop by the side of the road and fell back onto the plush seat.

Mandarin was already asleep.

* * *

Eight of thirteen. Things were going _quite_ well. In his lonely little house, Grimmlock leaned back in the rickety chair and put his hand to his chin.

"I do believe it is time for a change of scenery," the wizard announced.

He rose confidently, almost _majestically_, walking straight out the door. The tableau that met him had after so many years become so, so dull... The trees seemed to writhe and convulse as he approached, grey branches flailing into the hissing wind. The leaves cut into each other as they touched, emitting miniscule sounds of whistling and tearing.

Multiply this sound an inestimable number of times, and you shall hear the agonized roar of Limbo.

Grimmlock paid this sound no mind and raised his arms. His fingers were arched into claws. And slowly, from the monotone soil came a rising flood of red, red blood. Droplets seeped upwards between the grains of dirt, joining with other droplets nearby, until a spider web of red ooze covered the entirety of his domain.

The sea reached the base of the trees and they began to smoke. Unending hissing besieged the air as not only the trunks, but the branches smoked as well. There were no fleeing animals in his land; the only thing screaming was the land itself.

Grimmlock was deliciously satisfied as he watched the final, uppermost leaf disappear in a wisp of steam…

Mandarin jolted awake with a start, shaking all over. He swiftly looked around himself. Valina sat curled up into the car seat adjacent to him, sound asleep and undisturbed.

The monkey slowly eased back into his own seat, breathing hard. He lifted his hands up to hold his head, though they were trembling so badly he was a touch concerned about his claws scratching his eyes -his artificial one in particular seemed to be jerking uncontrollably.

Was he condemned to have to relive his worst fears in his sleep _forever?_ If they weren't about falling apart like the corpse he feared he truly was or having his limbs ripped from him, then they were about being devoured by the horrible little creatures that had inhabited the Dark One Worm.

The nightmare he had just experienced, however, was absolutely vile. The mental image of blood flowing up from the ground returned to haunt him and he shuddered, squeezing his eyes even more tightly closed, as if trying to symbolically squeeze the memory out from his mind. It wasn't necessarily the image that bothered him…

…but just whose blood _was_ it?

He hated that man, he decided. That loathsome, smug man who had stolen the witch's powers and started this whole stupid incident. The simian hated him more than anyone else at the moment; more than the Monkey Team, more than the boy, even more than Valina...

Mandarin felt a headache inflate within his head as his stomach churned. A tiny section of his mind tried to convince him that it was just exhaustion causing the dreams. His eyes were aching and there was always the discrete shaky-weak feeling that stayed with him during waking hours no matter what he did. It could be that the tired body of Mandarin had been used for too long. But being undead, living on drive and the life-giving spark of an old master, was no great cause of distress. What worried Mandarin was what faced him should he die for _real..._

He could handle these damned nightmares if they were merely occasional episodes, but…_every night_…

The monkey sighed, feeling fatigued and a bit defeated, and rolled onto his side before curling into a ball similar to his mistress's and slipping back into half-reluctant slumber; wondering in vague frustration as he drifted off why he even needed the sleep when he was technically "dead."

* * *

_The young man pressed forward down the street, trying to move fast without drawing attention to himself. Somewhat stubby fingers wiped sweat out of his eyes._

The Exterminators were on the move. He'd seen them marching towards his building from the window of his apartment. They knew. There were no other Skeletal Circle members living in his building, why else would they come? They were coming to get him…

He had to hide his amulet; had to dispose of the evidence without actually getting rid of it…

The man, who went by the name of Peter, stopped at an intersection, tapping his foot anxiously as he alternated between staring impatiently at the crossing light and glancing about himself nervously. He was trying to look inconspicuous; trying to blend in and act nonchalant, but anyone who looked at him could tell he was attempting to avoid something.

The man was sweating bullets, though one of the reasons for this was the frantic scramble down the fire escape outside his window to evade the Exterminators. Peter was not at all in any shape except for the spherical sort. (Irony of all ironies, as his beloved secret society's name was the "_Skeletal_ Circle," and he was anything but.) Add this to his shorter-than-average stature, and it makes climbing down a fire escape bloody well difficult.

Still…the threat of getting arrested (or worse) rang in his head, forcing him to push on and nurse the apprehension that thundered in his chest.

The light finally changed, and Peter continued down the street towards his destination. Several minutes of slow, heavy-footed jogging finally led the man to his objective:

The ancient amusement park rested silently behind its gate.

The young man smiled, the dark, stringy little mustache above his lip stretching as he revealed a set of yellowing teeth.

_Perfect…_

Peter spared a quick glance over his shoulder before entering the park. He rubbed at his eyes again, the sweat starting to sting them. The man walked briskly through the abandoned carnival field searching for what he believed would be the perfect hiding spot-

He finally caught sight of the Ferris wheel, and quickly lumbered over to it.

The man slowed as he neared it, and reached under his shirt, extracting a medallion with a dark gem in the center. After looking over his shoulder once again, Peter stepped towards the ride, and summoned a tiny fraction of his magic. He pushed his amulet onto the back of the car closest to the ground, and held it firmly in place for a moment. When he removed his hand, the amulet remained where it was, cemented to the spot by the man's enchantment.

Peter turned around abruptly and headed towards the box that controlled the ride. He placed both of his meaty hands on the control panel and focused. The screeching sound of the aged gears in the machine turning broke the eerie calmness that had surrounded the park. The massive wheel turned, carrying the car that possessed the man's trinket all the way to the top. Peter grinned as sighed in relief. No one would ever find it there… And as soon as he needed it he would come back and get it.

_The man left the park much more calmly than he had arrived, and, with the success of his endeavors in mind, began to forget the terror and anxiety that he had felt just moments before. Peter realised he was now feeling slightly peckish. Not even peckish. Positively starving. Peter was thinking of a solution for this when he bumped into something hard. Coming out of his reverie, he saw with widening eyes that it was a tall man in black armor and a mask…_

* * *

She woke with the sun. There were cramps in Valina's back, but she awoke with no grave complaint. Orange light skimmed across the car's bonnet, highlighting an unidentifiable scrap of paper which was lodged under the windshield wiper. Valina blinked slowly, shuffled in her seat to look more closely. The piece of litter was fluorescent orange, its corners flapping in the breeze.

It was a parking ticket.

At first the sorceress just sat motionless, unsure of how to react.

And then, gradually, she began to laugh. It was a very unpleasant laugh, containing no evidence of what you or I would call mirth. A shrieking cackle that swept incorporeal nails down the glass and metal of the car. She was nowhere near happy or amused, and here was this meaningless, _insulting_ affront before her very eyes. But inside, Valina laughed mockingly at the sheer absurdity.

As she pressed down on the accelerator, Valina was lost in a blissful recklessness. These mortals, with their silly little parking fines, they really had no idea...

_I am part of something so much greater._

Valina's sharp-toothed leer was the first thing Mandarin saw upon awakening. It worried him ever so slightly. But by the time the witch had pulled the car to a stop, her face had become hard and grim again.

Mistress and minion stepped out. There was grass underfoot. It could be mistaken for the bitumen that paved all of Shuggazoom, however, as the spiky blades were a dusty grey colour. A behemoth of a Ferris wheel stood stark against the background of the rising sun. It was ancient; it was undoubtedly a piece of history. And no one cared.

Valina pushed open the rusty gates. The hinges filled the still amusement park with a high squeal. On her left, the red and white ticket office sat half-collapsed on one corner. She took one deep breath and set off with a steady tread. It soon became obvious that the map was leading them to the Ferris wheel.

The witch looked down with frustration at her amulet. "I'm standing right next to the mark," she said. "But I don't see it..."

Mandarin scanned the ground around him, bare except for an assortment of glass bottles and paper. "Don't tell me it's underground again." The monkey's eyes chanced upon the closest car of the Ferris wheel. "Witch, on which side are we next to the supposed amulet?"

"I should be facing it right now," Valina replied impatiently.

"I think you are, Witch."

The cars were round metal shells, once painted red and yellow with all manner of clown faces on the sides. But when the pair had looked inside and around them all, they found nothing.

Valina squinted and looked up at the metal wheel. The sun was rising steadily higher, brightening the sky to a hue of white-blue. "You're going to have to climb up to the others," she sighed.

"Do I look like a circus monkey to you?"

Too late the words were out, and in a flash Mandarin was being suspended off the ground by the hand around his throat.

"For a coward you are quite brazen, simian." Mandarin met her narrowed, seething eyes stonily. "And to think, you were on such good behavior yesterday... I don't want to have to punish you again, Mandarin. A lesson learned once should be enough." She gradually pressed her nails into his neck.

_I could reach up and kill you now,_ he thought to himself. Mandarin felt his hand shudder back into a ridged claw. The transformation was painless now, but to change it back- Well, he could eliminate the reason for changing it back...

But suddenly there was a jolt all along the monkey's body, almost like a prolonged electrical spark. It rendered him immobile for several seconds, and while he was frozen Mandarin heard the words ringing in his head,

_**Be good.**_

"...now, _will_ you be good for your master?" Valina's grip tightened to emphasis her words.

His widened eyes relaxed and the line of the simian's body went slack. Valina lowered him to the ground, too frustrated to feel satisfied. Mandarin got up unsteadily, his limbs flaccid, and slunk towards a grounded car.

_I should have just broken her neck,_ was his mournful reflection as he gritted his teeth and converted his hand again. Utilizing each criss-crossing bar of rusted metal, Mandarin climbed the Ferris wheel like a circular ladder –slowly, shakily. Under Valina's shouted orders he peered through the greenish dust-encrusted windows of each car.

By the time Mandarin had climbed a quarter of the circle, he was exhausted. Rust tumbled down in flakes at every movement of his hands and knees. The morning breeze was much stronger higher up. The entire Ferris wheel groaned and croaked underneath him while the wind weaved in between the metal bars.

"Stupid little amulets should stay on the ground..."

Mandarin reached the uppermost car. It was directly below him, and as far as he could ascertain the amulet he was searching for was not on its roof. A gust of wind buffeted the ride. It was _swaying_. The damnable thing was swaying and he was _sitting on top_.

With a gulp and a long groan, Mandarin brought his knees to his chin and dropped down.

Now he was _swinging_ at the top of the Ferris wheel, like a child on an oversized set of monkey bars. Mandarin was level with the windows of the spherical car now. A seat running along the wall, a bare floor. Nothing else. Grunting with the exertion, Mandarin reached one hand forward, gripped the next bar.

At least now he was past the halfway point. But at two thirds of the Ferris wheel completed, Mandarin happened to glance over his shoulder.

"Witch!" Mandarin called down. The call was faint from such a height.

If Valina had replied, he couldn't hear it. All Mandarin heard, up there, swinging by his arms on a gigantic carnival ride, was a very loud, very violent, "Hey you!"

The witch had at first thought that the simian was calling to her because he had found the amulet and was either yelling to alert her of the situation or to try and receive some assistance -as if she could offer any. Then, of course, she heard the shout behind her, and realized the monkey was setting off a call of warning.

Valina turned around quickly. Three men were approaching with meaning. The one who looked a bit older than his comrades stomped towards her. "Yes, Miss, we mean you!"

The sorceress swallowed discretely, then hid her nervousness in her well-used veil of annoyance. "Can I help you?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips for show. _I'm just an average citizen; I have every right to be here if I want to be…_ she tried to tell herself. Nonetheless, her stomach was stirring with trepidation as the men finally reached her.

The apparent youngest of the group stepped forward, unconsciously pushing his colleague out of the way. He puffed out his chest and tried to look important, though it was all the witch could do to not to roll her eyes and laugh out cruelly at the young man's pathetic efforts. "We have reason to believe an escaped con has been through the area, Miss," he said, holding up the small device he had in his hands. It was a small metallic box with a red handle on each side, and a screen in the center of it. Currently, the screen showed a grid, and a small dot blinking in the grid. "Have you seen anything?"

Valina barely had to feign innocence here; she truly didn't understand what the young man was talking about. "No. I haven't seen any escapees; 'cons' or otherwise," she said flippantly.

The third member of the group, the "middle-man," as far as age went, by the looks of it, fumbled in his pocket for a moment before extracting a piece of paper folded into quarters. He unfolded the paper and showed it to her.

"You sure? Looks like this... Positive you haven't seen 'im?"

The paper was a bit yellowed, and creased deeply where it had been folded; evidently having been folded like that for a horrendously long time. The furrows scarred the image imprinted on the paper.

The witch stared for a moment, her voice lost somewhere, as the inked eyes of her minion glared back at her.

"Well?"

Valina opened her mouth, saying as nonchalantly as possible, "No; I haven't seen him."

The oldest of the trio furrowed his brow. "What are you doing here so early? And all by yourself?" The suspicion in his voice was thick.

The witch now crossed her arms. "Suddenly it's _illegal_ to take morning walks around your neighborhood?" Valina wondered if the excuse sounded as weak as she thought it did…

The sorceress fought the urge to look back at the Ferris wheel. _Let them leave before they look in that direction; let that stupid simian have the sense to hide in one of the cabs until they do…_ she begged mentally, still trying to meet the men's pressing stares without interest.

Mandarin, though he had no greater desire than to do what his mistress was wishing for him to do, could not. Dangling from the structure of the Ferris wheel, he tugged fiercely at the handle on the cab's door, but it obstinately refused to give. There were probably a hundred possible reasons for this, and all of them were very effective.

_Just crawl to the other side of the cab so they can't see you, you dunce!_ a voice shouted at him.

The monkey glanced over his shoulder at the men who had effectively surrounded Valina. His eyes narrowed. He recognized them, alright… His old "wardens".

There was nothing for it now. Mandarin _had_ to let go of the Ferris wheel frame. He'd have to jump across to the cab and hide behind it. It would involve a bit of crawling and lots of upper body strength, but right now he just needed to jump.

Left arm reaching out and almost grazing the wall of the car, right hand having just let go of the frame, Mandarin dropped down sharply.

It was a very good lesson to teach you not to misjudge distance.

His stomach jolted as he caught himself on the car of the ride, his claws digging into the rusty metal walls in an untrustworthy, trembling grip as the cab gently swayed back and forth. The monkey breathed quickly, deeply, sucking in as much as he could. Eventually the ghastly, floppy sensation of temporary weightlessness faded from his chest.

It was safe to say that Mandarin was starting to panic at this point. He couldn't climb up, for he was positive that even the slightest movement would dislodge him from where he hung, and he would then fall all the way down. For whatever reason, the simian felt the uncontrollable urge to look down at that very moment, and couldn't hold back a small, shaky shriek when he did. The image of his legs and tail dangling over nothing burned itself into his retinas. Mandarin snapped his eyes shut, and he clung to the wall and tight as possible, pressing his body against it as closely as he could.

As he did this, though, he felt a rather large bump at about where his chest was. After gathering his courage together (and hesitating a moment), the monkey slowly pulled back and looked down at where his chest had been pressed to.

An amulet glinted back.

Mandarin could practically _feel_ the Gods of Irony laughing at him.

And then, as if the divine finger of the holiest of Ironic gods stabbed down, the very worst that could possibly happen, _did._

Inexplicably, the metal under Mandarin's clawed fingers disappeared. The air was suddenly filled with a mighty rushing. All sense of inner balance was snatched away; however, Mandarin was certain now that gravity was alive and kicking, because there was the ground getting bigger and bigger and-

Really, people often forget that a second can be a very long time.

Standing on the grey-green grass, Valina was puzzled by how the men in front of her abruptly stopped talking. Creases appeared on her forehead when their mouths dropped open, slack. When the witch noticed their upward gaze, she almost groaned aloud.

_He's going to get killed!_ Valina looked over her shoulder, her eye finding the tumbling figure silhouetted against the sky. That did it. She had no choice.

The seconds dragged out, but the fact remained that there were not enough of them. Valina put her head down and ran, away from the guards, around to the other side of the Ferris wheel. She lifted her head to judge her position but could barely see from the sun's glare.

Above her, Mandarin was positively furious with himself for dying in such a pathetic manner.

"Aaaggghh!" Valina screamed as the monkey crashed down into her outstretched arms. With no time to think and Mandarin's body bouncing in her arms, she continued to run.

Completely winded and in wild excess of pain, the simian looked up at the shaky image of Valina. He wasn't dead. Hmm. Was he meant to be relieved? None of this passed very far through Mandarin's mind. Instead, he wheezed emphatically, "This...is all...your fault!"

"Your prison wardens want you back, simian. Thanks to your clumsiness, they've seen you and now _I've_ got keep you away from them. And you've hurt my arms again," she added sourly. The hem of Valina's black dress caught on all manner of debris on the ground. Wrenching her feet free of the resulting tangles with every step, the witch pressed blindly forward.

Mandarin's lungs were trying to force his ribs up so he could breathe, and they weren't doing it too well. All of his limbs felt numb. "Run?" he asked weakly. "Hide? Kill them?"

"How's this: Run, hide, then kill them?"

Mandarin groaned with feeling, closing his eyes. Valina decided to interpret this as consent. She slowed, taking in her surroundings. There were stalls of all sizes scattered in a random fashion all over the fairground. Valina could hear the shouts of the men behind her, but not their footfalls. They were understandably angry and bewildered, from what she could hear.

Aware of the men's mounting nearness, Valina surveyed her options. Shadowy little shacks, hulking buildings, a collapsed tent or two. All of them exuded an untouched, nightmarish ambience. Valina bit her lower lip and tried to think seriously. Whatever she chose had to hide both of them well, because once the guards arrived things would get difficult. There would be no second chances, no running from hiding place to hiding place like children in a game. These men may have looked inept, but they had weapons. And Valina had nothing...

That aside, Valina had to make a choice _soon_...

* * *

"Damn!" Markus panted. He placed his hands on his knees and got his breath back. Straightening, he turned his head from side to side. Nothing moved among the decaying rides and attractions.

Charlie furrowed his brow, bringing up a hand to sweep through his sandy hair in frustration. "I knew that woman was lying to our faces," he said with a touch of anger, as if he couldn't believe that she had done it.

"Don't know what the hell's goin' on," Markus said tersely, between puffs of air. "Just wanna finish the mission."

Samuel was looking around carefully. The three of them were standing in a large clear area. It looked like the center of the amusement park. As the sun rose, lumps of grey revealed themselves to be garish portals to either finding out what your palms held for your future, or possibly winning an oversized fluffy prize of your choice. How could it be that these things could be so monotone and yet horrifically multi-colored at the same time? They stretched on into the distance.

And grim old Samuel, eyes set hard, said those six dangerous words.

"I think we should split up."

* * *

When Mandarin opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the grinning face of the Devil.

He blinked hard in shock, and still the crimson face leered back. Mandarin looked up higher and started breathing again. He was at the door of the _House of Horrors,_ apparently. Although to look at the sign you wouldn't know it: The only letters left on the dark blue background spelled out "Hos f ors". The building itself was largely uninteresting. If you asked a child to draw a house, this was the result. Flat walls, flat triangular roof, covered in receding patches of paint. It was hard to tell if it was the original decoration or graffiti.

The rubber Devil served as a clue, however. Despite the worn, rat-eaten holes in his legs and the metal pole up his backside to keep him standing, he was still smiling to this day.

"How delightfully apt," Mandarin said wearily. "I'm sure we'll feel right at home inside."

Valina bent over and set him down on the ground. "We haven't got much time. Are you feeling well enough to walk?"

Mandarin tottered on his legs. He could feel is heart beating far too fast in his chest. "I feel like I've just fallen off a humongous Ferris wheel at terrifying velocity," he replied bitterly, barely able to stand upright.

"And I've just had a simian with pointy bits slam into my forearms at terrifying velocity. We're even." With that, the witch shoved at the doors.

The air inside _reeked_. A dozen indistinguishable smells pushed at them like a solid wave. The smell of rotting wood, old rubber, rusted metal, animal faces and bodies... Well, it was all in there somewhere. Valina doubled over and coughed, long and loud. She turned her head to the side and blinked her watering eyes but it was no better.

Mandarin shut his eyes resolutely, trying to maintain his strength. He put his hand on the wall to steady his quivering legs as the doors closed behind them with a _whoomph_.

Old, stinking, and virtually pitch black.

"I move that we just stay here and hope they don't come in," Mandarin said in a low voice, taking his hand off the wall. It was vaguely slimy to the touch.

Valina sighed. "I'm afraid we have to move in deeper, simian." There was a pause before she added, "We don't have to go too far. I trust the odor to discourage those men if they so much as open the door."

There was a narrow set of tracks in the floor. A line of cars would move along them, bringing their riders through the House of Horrors. Rather than use the suspiciously soft and slimy walls to guide them, Valina and Mandarin used this track. Slowly scraping their feet across the uneven ground through the darkness, making sure they were always next to the winding metal track.

Valina found that here and there a hole in the roof provided a bright source of light. She and the monkey had just entered a small tunnel-like section. There were one or two gaping holes in the ceiling above them, and from the light it gave in Valina could see a long succession of specters lining the walls on either side of her.

Mandarin tilted his head to look at a witch. Her only visible facial feature was her nose, thanks to the characteristic pointed black hat. Her nose was ridiculously long, green and covered in lumpy warts. She would have been reaching out her rubber hands, only they had fallen off. Empty black sleeves stared Mandarin in the face.

"Friend of yours?"

Valina was too distracted to feel insulted. A vampire only had half a face; beneath the yellowed plastic was a mess of metal and wires. Zombies were probably more zombie-like than ever before, the rats having obviously found their ears and toes tasty. The whole setting was ridiculous, simple in some parts but so overdone in others. Everything was so blatantly unrealistic that it tried to compensate through excess.

The amusement park must have been _really_ old.

When the color scheme changed from black and blue to red, and devilish little imps lining the walls grew abundant, Mandarin asked, "Haven't we gone far enough yet?" Yet he knew they'd barely gone fifteen meters from the entrance door.

Valina and Mandarin had stopped walking for a moment. In front of them, a set of rubber double doors proclaimed in dripping red text _'Wlccm t Hel'._

_Thank you, I'll try and enjoy my stay,_ the witch thought sardonically. "Fine. We'll hide behind these doors." She prodded them opened.

They each took two steps forward, and then the ground opened up at their feet.

Witch and simian fell back in shock. Dust cascaded over the edge in a waterfall of grey. There was, most definitely, an edge.

Valina, breathing slowly, inched as close as she dared to peer over the edge. It belonged to a rectangular pit, about two meters across, in the floor. This dusty grey pit was filled with mean-looking metal spikes. When the witch looked more carefully, she realised that those spikes had joints at which they were bent, and scraps of white latex hung off their tips. One spike seemed almost fully intact; it had five smaller and thinner spikes at the top, spread out. Spread out like fingers...

Valina realised that Mandarin hadn't moved. This new shock was probably one too many. "It's a pit," she told him. "What is it with me and pits?" she added darkly.

The metal spikes shone in the dim light, even after all this time. If not razor sharp along the edges, they were definitely extremely pointed. One clumsy step, a single reckless move...

Looking down at it, even the former Skull Sorceress shuddered.

Valina stood up straighter and surveyed the assemblage of peculiar appendages. Her gaze followed the car track which extended across the hole. The pit looked deep and sheer on all sides; the ancient hands of the damned would have been reaching upward and beating against the walls. It could be assumed that those joints were powered by small motors to cause flailing. Perhaps moaning would play over the speakers as the car moved to the other side-

The other side of the pit was illuminated by another hole in the roof. It was clear and bare for the most part. Valina scrutinized the gap carefully. _I could probably jump that,_ she decided. It was likely that she'd have to throw Mandarin across.

But it would save a lot of bother for them just to stay put for the present.

This was a perfectly feasible option until they both heard the sound of a heavy door opening, scraping and grinding across the floor. Perhaps it was Valina's imagination, but she saw torchlight pierce the gloom under the base of the rubber doors.

Without a second thought, she picked up Mandarin by the scruff of his neck and tossed him over.

* * *

Markus patted his pockets. He desperately needed some light. The stench in here was putrid, worthy of lengthy cursing. The prison guard brought his hand up by his head, cradling a lighter in his palm. It was his lucky lighter, shiny silver casing with flames engraved down one side. It had been worth a pretty penny, made an impressive noise every time he flipped the top open, and was probably the sole reason why Markus had never quit smoking.

He was about to flick the wheel to light the flame, but it suddenly occurred to him that igniting the noxious gases in the 'Hos f ors' was _not_ a good idea. There couldn't be much oxygen in here anyway. The stuff in this place was probably more reactive than oxygen. With a barely audible sigh, Markus put his lucky lighter back in his pocket and unclipped a tiny torch from his belt.

_The explosion would have been so awesome..._ he thought, flicking the flashlight on. It was no bigger than his index finger; as he recalled, Markus had bought this flashlight from a gift shop. The little device gave off a mere pencil beam of white light.

"Sam and the kid'd better be back from the truck soon," he grumbled, stepping over an indefinable grey lump. After a few steps he sensed that he was standing in an arch of some sort. Bringing his torch up, the minute ray of light illuminated the letters _'Parad f'_ and an illegible mess.

"Okay, what the hell," Markus said to the general area and walked on.

The adrenaline started to pick up speed when a hole in the roof brought footprints to his attention. There were large scuffles in the thick layer of dust on the floor. Small grey curls wafted upwards gracefully as Markus squatted to examine the marks. If the footprints had been a day or more old, a layer of dust would have covered the exposed sections of the floor. Markus swept a finger along the concrete, and shone his torch onto his fingertip.

The footprints were fresh.

Markus got to his feet, shining his miniature torch straight ahead. "Welcome to Hell, eh?" And then he heard a noise. It was slightly muted wail, followed by a soft grunt of exertion.

There was a small tazer on Markus's belt, and now he reached for it. He ran, elbowing the rubber doors apart. On the other side of the doors he saw the escaped convict sprawled on the ground in a patch of light. His eyes were open wide in fright, staring at the approaching guard. It looked as if the monkey was in a dead end.

Markus felt triumph slowly diffuse through his chest as he loped forward through the shadows. This had been too easy! The horrible stench was worth it for this-

_...one clumsy step, a single reckless move..._

And then, Markus tripped and fell.


	10. Amusement Park Mayhem

Mandarin didn't say anything for a long time. For so long, in fact, that Valina wondered if the fall from the Ferris wheel had damaged his brain. She sat uncomfortably on the ground, letting the adrenaline slowly pass out of her bloodstream, watching the monkey until he said,

"As tenable as our position may be, I do think we should leave."

Valina made a murmur of agreement and got to her feet. She gripped the simian around his small torso with both hands, lifted him up and said, "Brace yourself." Through the haze of surprise, Mandarin's brain managed to send the right signals to his legs. As he flew through the air in an arc Mandarin managed to twist sharply and land –more or less- on his feet. Meanwhile, the witch had taken a run-up on the other side of the gap. As she neared the edge she sprang.

The area just above her knee hit the corner of the wall, and her eyes went wide as she flung her arms over the edge. In a quick, mad scramble Valina hauled herself the rest of the way before the fear made her limbs freeze up. She didn't want to end up down there, not down in the pit...

They did not know it, but Valina and Mandarin's subconscious were occupied by the same thought.

_Oww..._

"Why are you so _bothered?_" the orange monkey asked all of a sudden.

The witch stared at the dark, breathing shape in the shadows. "Wh... What?" Valina was rendered clueless by his question. Being oblivious usually made her irritated, but there was nothing but genuine confusion in her voice now.

She heard Mandarin take another shuddering breath. "Why are you putting so much _effort_ into keeping me away from those guards?" A brief pause. "Why would _you_ care if I went back to that hateful cell?"

Valina looked at the glistening eyes, knew that the confusion on her face was apparent. But she couldn't think of anything to say. "I-" she tried, and paused. Why did the simian need to know, anyway? She was _bothering,_ as he put it, wasn't she? He should have been grateful!

Dreadfully aware that that the silence was lengthening, Valina said the first thing she thought of. "You swore an oath to me as my servant, Mandarin."

With a hint of haughtiness she added, "I demand your services exclusively. You're no use to me in a cell, are you?" Valina stood up after that, signifying the end of the conversation. There was an almost melodic sound as Mandarin brushed the dust away as he too got up.

"One more question, Valina."

The former Skull Sorceress stopped, not turning around.

"Why did you pause for so long?"

* * *

It had been a long time since Samuel had been in an amusement park. He couldn't remember quite how long, though… He'd been in his twenties, he remembered that much.

He also remembered he'd hated being in it _then_, too…

The man carefully edged his way around the park grounds, glancing around now and then for any movement while checking in every fathomable crevice which the miserable convict and his "friend" might have chosen to hide in.

He'd been taking one of his brother's daughters last time he was at one of these things. He didn't remember which, however… Either Scarlett or Emma.

Samuel shook his head. This was _not_ the time for this; he had to focus. Had to finish this god-awful mission…

The man clutched tighter to the pistol he'd brought back from the truck, and, as his eyes scanned the area, found himself hoping he'd be able to use it on the damned mutant.

A muffled crash was heard a ways around the corner. The guard's head snapped up, and he sprinted towards the sound, gun raised.

Samuel kicked any and all garbage out of his path as he ran, and as it just so happened, a glass soda bottle was in the way of his foot, and went flying to shatter loudly against the side of a nearby stall.

* * *

Mandarin and Valina walked next to each other in silence after leaving the Horror House (save for Valina's rapid inhaling of fresh air when they first exited). The witch had shrugged off her minion's last question grumpily, though Mandarin had been hoping for a more in-depth answer, and was irritated he hadn't gotten one. Then he began to think about _why_ he wanted an answer, and all in all it was unsettling.

He wondered, briefly, if it was because the first question's answer was somehow unsatisfactory...

The simian shook his head a little as he walked. No, that certainly wasn't it. Valina's reaction was the expected one. Without him, the witch wouldn't be able to complete her little "quest". That was why she'd caught him when he fell, too, probably…Why had he even bothered to ask, anyway?

Mandarin didn't notice his own shoulders droop ever so slightly.

He also didn't notice that there was a large-ish half-buried metal keg in his path. His foot caught, causing the monkey to stumble forward and crash into the side of a fortune-teller's booth. The aged, rotten wood buckled under the force of his propulsion, and collapsed.

The simian slowly pushed himself out of the wreckage, and turned around to see a very perturbed witch standing behind him.

Her arms crossed in front of her chest, Valina hissed lividly, "You know, Simian, you'd save everyone a lot of trouble if you just screamed outright, 'I'm over here! Arrest me please!'

Mandarin glared (though a trace of embarrassment was etched on his face) and muttered, "I tripped…"

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," came the snippy remark. "Would you care to tell me that the sky is blue, while you're at it?" Valina marched away.

The monkey followed, a bit sheepishly, behind. "It wasn't as if anyone heard m-"

The noise of shattering glass sounded in the distance.

The pair froze for a second. And then Valina whispered, "Run."

Both took off like bullets, with no specific destination in mind. They just ran. "May I point out," Valina asked bitterly as she sped through the abandoned fairgrounds, "that this is the _second time today_ your clumsiness has gotten us chased by these people?"

Mandarin growled. "No," he said. "No you may not."

The witch looked around desperately_. Somewhere to hide, somewhere to hide…_ It didn't matter where, really, just out of sight…

She saw in the corner of her eye the huge, dark, gaping opening of a tunnel, and for a second she wished she had the time to be pickier.

"This way," she called to her minion as she darted left. The monkey looked over to where his mistress was headed, and slowed a few paces as he gawked in disbelief.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me…"

Valina scowled. "Unfortunately not; now hurry up and follow me!"

With that, the pair both ducked into the maw-like entrance of the Tunnel of Love.

…Just as Samuel rounded the corner. The prison guard had just enough time to see a bony tail disappear into the darkness.

* * *

The old control box for the ride was the first thing you saw when you entered the tunnel.

The water had long since dried up in the channel, though it had left behind a considerable amount of pond scum. Somehow it thrived there, layers growing on top of each other, replenished by the rain that dripped through the sagging roof.

Now that the water was gone, you could see the metal tracks that had guided the swan boats through, each boat having carried a young, hormonally-unbalanced couple into what was supposed to be a romantic atmosphere.

The pair that travelled through it currently, however, just found it _annoying_.

Valina glanced around in the shadowy tunnel while passively stepping around the pond-scummy mechanical swan boat that was resting in the middle of the track. Though dark, she could tell that the walls had been -at one point- painted the brightest, most obnoxious shade of pink you could imagine. Not only that, but red hearts had been plastered to the walls, as well as hung from the ceiling, joined by every manner of cherubs and songbirds and angels. Some of the ornaments had fallen to the ground due to aged and fraying cables.

_Who in their right_ mind _decided that_ this _would be romantic?_ the witch questioned mentally. She, in all honesty, saw no appeal to _anything_ in the tunnel. In her humble opinion, it looked as if every two-bit Valentine's Day card in the world had thrown up all in the same spot.

Mandarin was thinking more or less the same thing as he eyed the tunnel with disgust. He was fully aware that Valina had pulled him in here to hide, and it probably _was_ a fairly secure location, but he still held vague resentment towards her for it. He _hated_ places like this with a passion. The fact that he was walking through it with _**her**_ made it that much worse…

The monkey halted abruptly, and grabbed at Valina's dress to stop her too. The sorceress looked down at him angrily.

"What are you-?"

"_Shhh!"_

Valina listened with annoyance in the silence that followed. Slowly, her irritation vanished, and she heard shuffling footsteps behind them at the beginning of the passageway.

"We were followed," Mandarin hissed heatedly to the witch. "Now what?"

_What indeed,_ the sorceress wondered. They couldn't just keep going forward; the tunnel would end at some point, and there were no turns or anything they could duck into…and they certainly couldn't go _back_…

"_Witch?" _

Valina noted that the desperation in the simian's voice was mounting. It felt a bit peculiar, actually...to have Mandarin looking to her for help, that is.

She looked down at that moment for no reason in particular, and a plan started to form in her head. A risky plan, but it was all she had at the moment.

"Go further down the tunnel and wait there until I come get you," she muttered.

"WHAT? How will that-?"

"Just trust me!"

Mandarin paused for a moment, staring at his mistress questioningly, before reluctantly heading away down the channel.

* * *

Samuel edged though the tunnel carefully, trying not to slip on the slimy pond scum, his pistol at the ready. Where the _hell_ did the little bastard go now?

The ageing guard continued forward slowly, cautiously. And what was with that woman? What did she have to do with this? And why was she protecting the Skeleton King's former right hand?

…And what the hell were they doing in the Tunnel of Love?

Samuel paused, shuddered, then swore to himself that when this was over (_when_, not _if_; he had 'em trapped now) he was going to go to a bar and drink until his imagination was dead. Do a friggin' DIY _lobotomy._

He occupied himself for a moment by squinting and trying to identify the dark shapes on the walls. Hearts, hearts, Cupids, hearts, angels, bow and arrows, kissing couples, hearts, angel girl singing, hearts-

The prison guard abruptly noticed something crouched on the ground some distance in front of him, jumped, raised his gun, and fired.

The bullet hit the target dead on, and the shape was blown back a few feet, scraping on the floor. Samuel headed over to it, still clutching his weapon tightly.

He didn't notice the singing angel girl peel away from the wall and quietly scamper back to the beginning of the tunnel.

Samuel bent down next to what he'd shot, and rolled it over. An old, broken-winged cherub with a bullet hole in its forehead smiled sweetly back at him.

The guard swore with fervor as he ran a hand furiously through his hair. They'd know he was here now for sure. He'd just cost himself the element of surprise…

Samuel stood up swiftly, still rebuking himself. A little _too_ swiftly. As he stood up, his foot slipped on the slime that covered the floor of the channel, and he fell back down, curses flying from his tongue.

He winced sharply at a pain in his ankle as he landed. Looking over at it, he saw the problem: His foot had become caught in between the narrow tracks on the floor. Still cursing, Samuel tried to pull his foot from the tracks.

He paused when he heard a slow rumbling.

The prison guard looked up. It was coming from the entrance. It was also transforming from a rumble to a clatter; something was picking up speed…

Slowly he became aware of something coming towards him… Something white.

It was an oversized swan boat. And it was moving incredibly fast now.

Confusion lasted only a second before panic set in. Samuel was tugging frantically now, trying to free his foot, trying to get away, trying _not_ to be crushed- sliced in half- _KILLED_ by the mechanical beast speeding towards him. Samuel tore at the laces on his boot, but the white filled his vision.

It had rust all over its rump, really; you could hardly call it white anymore. The contours of its wing feathers were shelves for dust. Yet its neck curved gloriously upwards, tipped with a round head and puckered beak. It could very well have been the most beautiful thing in the entire Tunnel of Love.

When the swan was but feet from him, he remembered, yes, it had been Scarlett that he'd taken to the fair last time. She was the younger one. She'd heard there was going to be a petting zoo...she'd wanted to see the goats... She loved goats, the little oddball. Her parents couldn't take her because they were busy, busy doing…

Well, it really didn't matter now.

There was a thud.

* * *

Valina's heart had been thundering in her throat when she'd plunged her hands into the control box. She realized there was only a small chance that her plan would work. Smaller than small. Almost nonexistent. Even if she _could_ get the damned boat moving (and at the speed required, no less) there was always the possibility that it wouldn't hit her target. He could move…

But, somehow, she'd managed to hotwire the thing into moving.

And then she heard a dull thud, and she finally breathed out. Her heart didn't stop pounding, however.

It occurred to her after a minute that she still needed to go and retrieve her minion. She shuddered at the prospect of having to pass what was left of the guard, but slowly, shakily, she rose to her feet and traversed the tunnel again.

* * *

Mandarin sat at the end of the tunnel, his back pressed against the wall, wringing his claws. He didn't like having to hide to begin with, but he liked it much less when the only thing he had to hide himself in was lack-of-light. Not only that, but Valina was somewhere in front of him, doing who knew what…

Then he'd heard a gunshot, and he began to panic a bit. Had the witch tried to take the guard head-on? Or had he fired on sight before she had a chance complete her plan? Had she wrestled the gun from him? Mandarin had half a mind to go check, but he then remembered Valina had told him to wait, so he remained where he was, against his better judgment.

His apprehension grew when he heard a mysterious thud. Several minutes passed, and nothing else happened after that. It was at that point the simian decided to disregard his mistress's instructions completely. Something was wrong, and he wanted to know what. Leaping up from the wall, Mandarin took off on all fours, when suddenly he heard someone approaching _him_…

The monkey froze, subconsciously trying to flatten himself against the wall again. After a moment, however, the figure came into view, and it was, decidedly, female.

Something akin to relief flooded Mandarin's senses, and he trotted the rest of the way to the witch.

Valina gave the simian a look. "I distinctly recall telling you to wait until I came to get you. I had assumed you'd listen this time considering it involved your own well-being… Stupid me."

Despite the face she was making, her voice was surprisingly passive. Bored, almost…

"I heard a gunshot," Mandarin said pointedly. "And then a rather loud thump."

Suddenly the sorceress's expression matched her unimpressed-tone. "So you did…" She turned around and began walking to the entrance, calling over her shoulder, "In the event that you don't want to see your old warden's blood smeared across a gaudy old mechanical swan, you'd close your eyes until I tell you otherwise and stick close to the wall..."

The monkey stared after the witch in confusion, before putting his clawed-hand to the wall, placing his other hand over his eyes, and numbly walking forward.

For whatever reason the image described didn't appeal very much to him at the moment.

* * *

The first word people used to describe Charlie was 'young'. And being young, he had all the traits associated with youth. Naivety. Ignorance. Swaggering over-confidence. Now, not all youths are like this. Charlie was just a very poor example.

When he'd applied to be a guard at the desert prison, Charlie had run out of ideas. He owed money in a few places and well, it sounded all right. Not exactly a spy thriller, but close enough. Charlie had arrived, learned a rope or two, and strangely enough his colleagues had taken a liking to him. The kid had charisma.

The boy had grown close to the oldest guard, which was surprising too. Charlie called him Uncle Samuel, one of the reasons being because it rhymed. Sort of.

Right now the young man was alone. He clicked on his walkie talkie radio. "Markus? Samuel? How are you guys doing?"

Nothing.

Charlie frowned. "Hmm. Can't be out of range. Markus' batteries must be dead again." The middle-aged guard had a penchant for laziness; he never replaced his batteries. But what about Samuel?

The young guard was still hanging about the entrance, poking around the Ferris wheel. Further in and to his left was the Tunnel of Love. More tents and stalls. A big building could be seen some way off, crouching behind a row of stalls. That used to be the Horror House, didn't it?

That was the thing. Everything here was so old and_ creepy._

It was just a subconscious reaction, nothing to worry about. Charlie breathed sharply, clicked on his radio again and strode mechanically forward. He had a fresh tazer, a gun, and about half a kilogram of ammunition in his pockets.

"Samuel? Hey. Er, come in? Where are ya, sir?"

His radio screamed.

Charlie yelled and wrenched his hand away from his ear. Damn, that'd been loud! He looked at his radio incredulously. That hadn't been Samuel, had it? When he thought about it carefully, most of it could have been feedback. The noise at its core was more like a gigantic bump.

* * *

"No more running," Valina said. "This time we'll try and get out of this place."

They had just come out of the Tunnel. It was a distance of about a hundred metres to the amusement park entrance. The two of them were creeping silently around the corners of the tents.

Mandarin was loath to mention it, but, "What about the amulet?"

The witch stopped in her tracks. "Damn," she muttered. "It was up there, wasn't it?"

Mandarin clenched his fists. "I'm _not_ climbing up again!"

Valina turned on him. "What else do we do, then? You...you coward!" She grabbed his bony arm in a vicious grip and almost _stomped_ all the way to the Ferris wheel.

Valina stood at the base of the monolithic ride with her hands on her hips. The sun was almost blinding now, searing the skin on her shoulders. Mandarin crouched low by her side and dug his claws into the soil, as if to anchor himself to the ground.

Then the simian heard footsteps. Blindly, he swiped at his mistress's robe. Valina turned, and there was a moment of complete stillness as she locked eyes with the young man.

It broke soon enough. The final guard –who had been trying to take them by surprise- started sprinting. Valina ran to the nearest Ferris wheel cab. It was suspended a few feet above the ground, so Valina reached up and pulled on its door. Mandarin failed to see how the witch could dislodge the rusted metal from the cab, but grunting and heaving with desperation, she did. The entire door came free of the cab and Valina stumbled backwards with the momentum, flung the sheet of metal to the ground and threw her minion into the darkness.

Charlie had halved the distance between him and his quarry by then. He'd just been looking around the old stalls when he heard voices, which led him back to the Ferris wheel.

"Hands up!" he shouted, drawing his weapon. The woman was hunched over the Ferris wheel's control box with her back to him, but she turned swiftly and raised her arms palm-outward.

_No way..._ Charlie's eye widened as the Ferris wheel, groaning and protesting all the way, began to turn. The guard ran even faster. Soon he was face to face with the dark-haired woman. Her eyes twinkled.

"Are you going to arrest me?" Good Lord, she practically sang it!

He took a moment to process her words. He shook it off and said roughly, "Which car is he in?"

The woman tilted her head the other way. "Who?"

"For God's sake, do you see the gun I'm holding or not?"

"I suppose you mean the convict." In one second flat her face calmed like a pool of water, devoid of all expression. "I seem to have lost track of the little scoundrel."

Charlie struggled to maintain a harsh face. "Then I'll have to shoot them all one by one." He tilted his pistol a few degrees upward. The wheel was meeting difficulties. Every now and then it would jar to a halt, and restart after a few seconds.

The woman in black took a step towards him. Her hands were still up. "You're a bit young to be playing with guns, aren't you?" She was completely calm, approaching Charlie like she would a jittery animal. That description could be applied; he was sweating from head to toe.

"You can walk away, you know," she continued. Another step. Charlie trained the gun's barrel on her head again. "Your two friends are dead. If you want I'll tell you where they are so you can see for yourself-"

The words faded away after that, never reaching his ears. Markus and Samuel... _Nah, she's bluffing. But what if..._ Charlie was so lost in the maelstrom of thoughts that he didn't notice the woman take three paces forward, a hand's breadth away from the barrel of his gun.

The sandy-haired guard came out of his trance just in time to see two grey hands swipe at his gun.

"Aaarghh!"

Valina fell, curled up in a ball, gasping into the grass. Her eyes were stretched wide while her fingernails dug into her breast. The witch's scream had been cut short, when all strength had been robbed and she could only concentrate her energies into lessening the pain.

Oh gods, it was like _dying _again...!

Charlie's eyes were wide too. In his left hand he held the tazer, buzzing with excess discharge. His finger was still on the switch. He shuddered and dropped the tazer onto the ground.

Then, he raised his pistol high and fired.

Huddled motionless in the corner farthest from the door, Mandarin heard the shot. The noise sliced through the air and he jumped. Then another one. A pause, the gun fired again. It sounded closer. The bullets were _getting_ closer!

Mandarin squeezed his eyes shut in chagrin. When the first bullet punctured the metal _a foot to his left_, he leapt for the gaping door and the patch of white sky beyond it.

Limbs like springs, the monkey grabbed the top of the car door with his claws, and flipped his entire body upwards. Mandarin landed on the roof.

One second to take in the view. Treetops far-off turning gold with sunlight. Clouds in the sky. Valina and the remaining guard on the ground, way, way below...

One second too many.

The prison guard was firing bullets faster, one after the other. Little chest heaving, Mandarin turned and ran. Again. Up the Ferris wheel to the very apex, _while the damned thing was rotating._ He'd gotten five cars away when he stopped. His muscles were going mad and the air was too thin. To do this twice in one morning was maddening, exhausting... Mandarin had to hide behind one of the Ferris wheel cabs and rest.

So he clung spread-eagled to one. There was a blissful pause in the barrage of fire. But the guard no longer had to deal with a moving silhouette. Charlie knew where he was.

A ceaseless clanging on the brittle metal, the cab suddenly swaying violently; Mandarin shrieked and sprang away. White bars of metal blurred under him as the simian thrust himself forward. One, two, three, he put a claw where a bar _wasn't_ and fell through.

_Again!_

The small orange money landed hard. On metal.

The Ferris wheel had rotated perfectly into position for Mandarin to land on top of another car. Fate had dealt him a wild card and suddenly –despite the bone-shattering impact- Mandarin's mind became extraordinarily clear again. Running on the comet trails of adrenaline, he rolled over and locked his claws onto the lip of the roof, dangling down on the side.

A strangely familiar lump was pressing into his chest, and the simian was just about ready to scream.

* * *

The young man was firing madly. He didn't know he had it in him. There was something hot in the pit of his stomach, fuelling him.

_Uncle Samuel..._

Three consecutive bullets sheared through the metal joint holding the cab to the rest of the wheel. The bolts blew apart. Blackened fragments of metal tumbled down, but no one saw them.

Valina, however, looked up to see a cab lurch sickeningly and drop to one side. It was staying up by _one_ joint!

The cab lasted four seconds.

The sheer impossibility of the situation made the witch's eyes go wide. But then the green-grey ball of metal spun its way to the earth...a booming thud that bent the grass like ripples in a pond...and all she could do was stare at the crumpled wreck.

The crumpled wreck.

The impact that bent the grass.

The tazer was lying in the grass.

"Ughh!"

The sorceress saw the pistol fall into her vision, snatched it.

In a moment she was standing again, arms ramrod straight, cradling the gun in her hands.

"I'm letting you walk away from this, boy."

The boy in question turned around slowly, to be met with a pitch black barrel pointing between his eyes. Behind the barrel was the stone grey face of the witch. Valina could see his arms shaking with the after-effects of the tazer. The fear he felt was beginning to diffuse into his eyes.

"They're in the Tunnel of Love and the Horror House," Valina said quietly, dangerously. "Now, consider this. _I am letting you walk away._ I imagine a failed mission is comparatively better than having your brain shot out at point blank."

Charlie arched one eyebrow. No movie one-liner clichés. Just a cold fact. _Uncle Samuel._

The young guard exhaled hard, gave a small nod, and turned his back. Valina kept the gun trained on him as he strode away. After a few meters his facade dropped, and Charlie adopted an anxious run towards the Tunnel of Love.

Valina sagged and blindly felt for the Ferris wheel's control box. She hit a switch and the wheel ground –gradually, at its own pace like a senile old man- to a stop. Then she faced the fallen cab. She was almost reluctant to approach it. The witch squinted and raised her gaze on the Ferris wheel itself, searching for any sign of a monkey still up there. Nothing.

Nausea threatened to overcome her. _Mandarin must be in the cab._

But a noise! Valina jumped and stared at the hunk of metal. Once it had held delighted families, pointing and gawking at the cityscape...

...and now Mandarin climbed over its edge, throwing arm over arm, to kneel on top of it.

His fur was a mess, drenched in sweat and grime. More strikingly, the simian's eyes were wide and bloodshot. Valina's minion raised a claw, spluttering as he tried to regain his breath...

"Once again, I BLAME YOU!"

And then he swayed and fell forward.

He didn't hit the ground. Without realizing it, the witch had darted forward and caught him before his body made contact with the earth. He was unconscious now, the exhaustion and stress of the expedition having overwhelmed him. Valina, for a split second, was unsure of how to react further now that she had her comatose minion lying in her arms. She looked at his claws randomly, and her breath caught in her throat.

Somehow, during all the earlier chaos, Mandarin had managed to locate and retrieve the amulet.

The witch paused for a moment, before slowly rising to her feet and walking back to the car, placing her unconscious monkey horizontally in the back seat. She carefully pried the amulet from his grip, then slid into the driver's seat, and drove off.

* * *

Grimmlock had his head tilted, lips pursed. He was looking at the fireplace, elbows on his knees and thinking quite carefully. Outside his door a night of sorts had fallen. The sky was a dark purple. On the horizon it met a flat, solid plain of blackened dust and rock. It stretched on and on, beyond the mind's ability to accommodate it. Gone were the prison of bar-like trees; to stand upon this plain was to own an entire world.

The wizard's eyes drilled into the multi-colored flames. Yet his mind was elsewhere. It wandered to the corners of his brain, probing into his recent memories, checking back on itself. It was a welcome change from the simian. Their delightful little quest was progressing well, so there was no need to be present in the monkey's mind for now. Grimmlock hadn't searched himself for a long time. That fact was conceded that an afterlife in Limbo had few other entertainments, but he hadn't done this since he found the amulet. Not since _Valina..._

Valina. That was it. Grimmlock had no other word for it, just..._it_. This bundle of strange feelings, some he never knew to exist. Usually they could only be called sensations but these were borderline- Borderline...

She was beautiful, no mistaking that. It was her eyes, he was sure. The sorceress had incredibly expressive eyes, large and clear and burning. Remarkable how fierce eyes and cruel lips could form such loveliness. _Voluptuous_ wasn't the word and neither was _tempting,_ but she did lure. Fingers outstretched as she disappeared into her swirling darkness, dragging beings after her like a sinful goddess...

The flames danced in their cave and crawled over the whitened twigs. Grimmlock kept staring into them. His hands clenched suddenly in hard, maddened determination and for a moment his face twisted into a terrifying expression.

He would look into those eyes and find every strength, every weakness, every desire, to the very last secret. He would find out what it would take to make her adore him, adore him like a _god..._ There would be no turning back. Unlike the Skeleton King, Grimmlock would not throw her away. He would own her forever.

Grimmlock had her magic, but the fact was, he still needed her. Until the last piece clicked into place. He was good at controlling all the pieces. So good that he came close to capturing the King, once...but it was always the Queen who had more power, wasn't it?

Howe and Vesper hadn't loved her much, he was rather certain. But if they were still alive, they would be nothing but insulted. Their flesh and blood, stolen by the very man whose life they had ruined! It was the ultimate revenge.

The starless purple sky began to recede, as a sun rose majestically over the insubstantial horizon.

The wizard knew Valina would fight. She would rather die than serve again.

The fire began to die down of its own accord and when the ashes settled, they were stained a deep cerise pink colour. The remains of the firewood seemed to sparkle violently in the dawn light, peeking through the house's solitary window. A reminder...

Valina really was fascinating. He'd be quite sorry if he had to kill her.


	11. Rats, Jealousy, and Blood

There was a thoughtful face staring through the windscreen at the sun. The car was parked somewhere that was a _little_ less rundown than the neighborhood it had previously inhabited, but while she was in her little shell of tinted glass the world outside didn't matter.

She didn't know what she should have been thinking about. Things were just _happening_ and Valina was riding this wave of strangeness. The ex-witch met the eyes of her reflection, slightly above her in the curved windscreen; they looked bigger than they were before, light curls of bewilderment around her pupils.

Mandarin was still unconscious; he'd been pushed hard during that recent excursion. She felt a bit sorry for him. Worried, even.

Gaze drilling into her reflection, Valina demanded why. The thin, warped face couldn't think of an answer.

The monkey twitched and made a small groan as he finally stirred. His vision was blurry, and he blinked a few times to clear it. He was lying on his back staring up at… Something grey and fuzzy. It certainly wasn't _sky_…

The simian groaned as he pushed himself up. Smooth leather, silly grooves and painful contours all over the place. Right. The stolen car.

"Up at last, are you?" Her eyes had travelled to the rear view mirror.

The simian grunted in response, and since his mistress had given him no command to do otherwise, flopped gracelessly back into the plush seat.

There was a silence, but it wasn't unwelcome by any means. Valina's attention flicked away from the mirror, to other soundless thoughts, while Mandarin felt no desire to converse at the moment.

Unfortunately, since the simian wasn't speaking, that meant he had no choice but to lie there and _think_.

Valina had done him a great favor, whether he liked to admit it or not. Whether he _understood_ it or not. The fact that she had risked her own safety -Mandarin felt an uncomfortable choke here- to _protect _him was undeniable. It was too bizarre to wrap his mind around. Simply put, it was the first instance that anyone had ever done something _for_ him... As opposed to _to_, which was sadly what he was more comfortable with; he knew how to handle _that_.

"Good job, by the way." The comment was hesitant and grudging, but the witch managed to grate it out. She held up the ninth of thirteen amulets.

"I'm vaguely impressed that you actually managed to get this. I'm aware it was no easy task to _get to it _in the first place, and then with the added factor of having to dodge an onslaught of bullets…" The witch cleared her throat and fingered the steering wheel.

"I suppose you deserve _some_ credit for pulling it off."

There was a brief buzzing in Mandarin's head, which slowly faded away as the _compliment_ sunk in.

It was at this point that the monkey became convinced that he'd woken up in an alternate dimension.

Suddenly, there was something churning in his stomach. Then he felt it begin creeping its way up. It began to bubble up his throat, and, before he could stop it, it spilled out of his mouth and splattered against his hearing.

"Thank you."

They both knew what they were talking about. The matter was something to be watched and tested with caution; this whole damned bridge could collapse at any moment.

"For keeping me away from those guards," Mandarin tried again. "It was rather...convenient having you around at the time."

The witch in the front seat blinked, returned to the strip of mirror. She nodded once.

The silence returned, but this time Mandarin wished it hadn't. There had been too much meaning in the exchange, and the words hadn't matched the meaning. When he could take it no longer the orange simian asked, "Where precisely did you learn all that again?"

"Hmm? The hotwiring at the park, you mean?" The sorceress scoffed dismissively. "My parents owned an _arcade_, Monkey. If I was horrendously bored and had no pocket money I'd tinker with the game consoles so I could play without paying. It was a start."

Mandarin found himself feeling somehow incredulous, and -in spite of himself- impressed. "And the car?" he asked.

The corners of Valina's mouth twitched upwards for a fraction of a second. "That's another story altogether."

The witch reached down abruptly, and turned the key in the ignition.

"We aren't finished yet, Simian…"

* * *

_She recovered her sight in time to see the dust settle. Thick clouds of it, white plaster drifting down leisurely..._

...to cover the bodies.

Step backward, one, two. Let the eye roam, roam so dizzyingly. Let the blood freeze in your equally frozen body.

The explosion had torn a jagged strip out of the ceiling, it seemed. Her eyes rose to take in the cracked roof beams in the dimness overhead and the tiles perched perilously on the edge of the gap. A zigzag line of white sky. It was as if all the energy inside the house had built up and escaped in a single, monumental burst. It had gone directly upwards, one building-split force, and the roof was the only part of the building that had been damaged. Spectacular.

It made Dia's mind pound with fear.

The rosebuds on the wallpaper stretched, blooming and dying, as her vision swirled. Dust, dust everywhere.

She carefully avoided the black-armored men on her carpet. Rather, she was careful not to step near the oily pools of their remains. _Ink stains on cards,_ she thought numbly. _The kind the doctor tells you to look at, and tell him what you see._

_I see..._

By her feet, she knew, should have been the head of the red-headed boy, face-down. The silhouette of his arms reached out, the right arm upwards and the left by his side. His legs were an indefinable mess, merging with each other and his torso.

But it's not really arms and legs and a head. It's just ash, pressed in between the orange-pink fibers of the carpet.

Such destructive power, and shaped from her hands. There wasn't even blood. A hand, white as the plaster, white as the cloud-wrapped sun, rose to cup her mouth. The words rang out again spasmodically, each time with more chilling reality.

_There's not even any blood!_

"Mistress Dia," the skeleton began.

The girl whirled around, heaving in gasps of air. _It's still here? _The figure stood erect and stone-frozen on the other side of the room, staring back. But, aha, it is not stone at all... The coal black eyes, its outstretched claws; this horrible formless _thing _was hers!

It grated out its words, almost as if it was in pain. "Mistress, it would be best...if we left," the Formless said, stepping woodenly towards her.

Dia reached for the back of the lounge, latching onto it desperately. "You killed them, didn't you?" Her arms and voice shook.

"It was Mistress Li-Anne's wish."

"My sister. Where is she?"

The Formless said nothing and its eyes did not move.

"Where...is...Li-Anne?" the mage enunciated slowly. An image of the young soldier with red hair flashed through her mind. "I command you to answer me!"

Step backward, one, two. Let go of the sofa and use your eyes. Absorb all the horrors in this cottage, and find the one you don't want to see.

Hers was the only human body intact. Locks of her hair lay limp on the floor, twisted and beautiful like the sunrise. The sleeves of her sorceress' robe were stained with blue and black, the tangible remnants of the magic she had used. And red, too. Why the red?

"Did you kill her?" Dia loathed herself for saying it so calmly.

The Formless took another step. "I am forbidden to harm you." It said this just as levelly.

"She told you to do it, didn't she? You helped her, you know. You helped her by killing the soldiers like that."

"Mistress. It would be better for you to leave. It is no longer safe here." In two strides, it was in front of her, nose to nose.

"No, no, stay back!" She staggered backwards, hands held up protectively. Dia wondered if she had enough strength to summon her magic. "Leave me alone! You'll just keep killing, like you killed Li-Anne! Just keep killing and killing..." The young woman slipped in some ashes and started sobbing as she climbed to her feet.

"Murderer!"

And with that final condemnation, Dia turned her back and ran out of the doorway.

She ran down the street.

She ran past the last buildings of the city.

She ran through the wasteland and its freezing night.

_It was when she staggered, too weak to remember why she had cried so much on the way, into the mass of green and grey that they arrived._

* * *

The sun had set some time ago. The moon was on the rise, albeit continuously disappearing behind an assortment of clouds, making any sort of vision intermittent. The warmth and light were seeping away; there wasn't much time until they would be lost in the Savage Lands' complete darkness.

Neither the witch nor the monkey had been exactly thrilled upon discovering that their next objective lay somewhere within the hostile land's boundaries.

Tripping clumsily over the dense undergrowth, Mandarin hugged the gun he'd pilfered earlier closer to his chest and growled. They'd been walking for _hours_… And from what he could tell, they were no closer to their goal than they had been when they had started.

"No, we couldn't have taken the car." Valina said this with an uninterested inflection, without looking up from her 'map'.

The orange monkey knitted his eyebrows together. "I didn't say anything, Witch."

"You were going to say it. If not now then eventually. I _know._"

Mandarin wrinkled his nose in indignation. "I'm not stupid, Witch. You think we could have maneuvered that thing through all this?" He gesticulated at the rambling vines all around them.

Rather than incite an argument the sorceress decided to simply move on from this. It took some amount of tongue-biting. Their verbal spars (which seemed to arise every time either one of them got frustrated) were distracting and a waste of time, but it felt _right._ She was the master, he was the servant. That wouldn't change, so what could you do?

Only say with a half-smile, "You're learning, Mandarin."

Mandarin changed hands holding the gun. It wasn't large for a human, though it had a thick grip and a long barrel. Annoyingly cumbersome for a smaller monkey. "You truly think we'll meet something out here that would require a firearm?"

"Seems a waste of a weapon if we didn't bring it," Valina said, almost cheerfully.

She looked up from her amulet again before halting abruptly, her head whirling to her left. Mandarin (who'd been glaring into the surrounding foliage) collided with the back of the witch's legs and stumbled back a pace or two. The monkey scowled up at his mistress briefly before taking note of the direction of her gaze. He turned to look, and found himself staring into the black, gaping mouth of a cavern.

"Is it in there?" Mandarin asked shortly, half-dreading the answer.

"No," Valina replied. "But something else is. I heard a noise-"

As if awaiting some cue from the sorceress, a rustling from deep within the cave rebounded off its walls and rushed to meet the pair. Mandarin instinctively raised the gun while the witch took a half-step back and lifted her fists. The rustling suddenly amplified, indicating that whatever was inside the cavern was now making its way out. Both simian and witch were tensed in waiting, each quietly wrestling with the notion of bolting and hoping their partner had the sense to follow, when something launched itself out of the cave and landed in a crumpled heap at their feet.

It took Valina a moment to register any recognition towards the filthy little creature that currently lay quaking by her boots. The skin was sallow and the cheeks were sunken; fear and lunacy sparked in its wild eyes. The hair was an undistinguishable color under all the grime, and was tangled and long and matted.

It wasn't until the pitiful little thing actually met the witch's eyes that Valina dimly recalled a child with a short red bob of hair and freckles that had occupied a fraction of her memory.

"Dia?" The name flung itself from her dry throat. Surely this dirty, crazed, pathetic thing couldn't be the innocent, sweet-looking child that had been a member of the Skeletal Circle…

Mandarin was incredulous. _"What?_"

The girl's eyes widened in anguish as she stared, disbelieving, up at the fuchsia eyes of the young woman. She shook her head slightly. "N-no…y-you're…you can't be... You're dead... Valina, you're dead! You're- I'm- I'm- I'm_ dead-_" Hysterical weeping burst from the child's lips, silencing her speech.

Valina resisted the urge to smack the girl, instead choosing to grab her wrist and haul her to her unsteady feet. She let go almost immediately, however. The child's arm had several vicious looking puncture wounds in it. The skin was puffy and slightly green. Infection was obvious.

The girl tottered on her feet for a moment while the witch collected herself. "Stop whimpering," she commanded finally. "You aren't dead. I'm not either. Not anymore, anyway…"

The child sniffled and sniveled as she gazed at the sorceress.

Valina looked back, contemplating. It was quite clear that this girl's amulet was the one they were looking for. However, as far as she could see, she didn't _have_ her amulet. Which was peculiar…Why would Dia forgo her only weapon in the Savage Lands? Well, unless the child was a raging idiot, she wouldn't. No, all evidence suggested that the girl had lost it somewhere. Presumably a long time ago, judging by appearances and by the fact that she was a stuttering mess…

"Dia..." the witch began evenly. "Where's your amulet? Do you know?"

Dia started; an invisible shock ran up her body and she began to shake. "No, I- I- no."

"You don't know where it is?"

The girl shook her head. "I can't- It was lost. I-I can't get it back."

Valina opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off.

"Th-they _swarm_. They never attack one at a time, they- they always attack in _groups_."

The sorceress's blinked. "Who always attacks in groups?"

Dia either didn't hear the witch's question or decided it wasn't worth answering. "I-I ran. I had to get away, or I would've been- Would've been just like Li-Anne-"

"Li-Anne?"

"I ran and then when I got here they all came. They- they all swarmed and bit and scratched and when I ran from them they took my amulet. I-I can't get it back. They- they'll kill me; rip me to pieces."

Valina's brows furrowed, becoming frustrated with the girl's inability to answer her questions. _"Who?"_

Dia was beginning to lose control of her breathing again. This time it was very clear that she could no longer acknowledge the witch's inquiries, much less answer them. "Can't go back either. It'll find me and kill me too. Just like Li-Anne."

Clearly the child's psyche had snapped somewhere along the way. The witch watched numbly as the girl spiraled into a frenzied panic again, realizing that no amount of questions would draw out any sort of answer from her.

"It's unstoppable, it's going to destroy everything, it- it-" She stopped with surprising abruptness, the whites of her eyes shone against the background of dusted skin. These wild eyes locked with Mandarin's, who'd been silently observing the conversation that had been taking place between the two females with extreme confusion. Fear stretched the eyes further.

"You! Like...but not like- It's-" Again her voice was cut off. Attuned to a sound they could not hear, the girl turned to Valina with new terror. Sinewy fingers grabbed the witch's hands, shook them, and a whisper: "Save me."

With that the eyes rolled back into the girl's head, and with a last single shaky exhale she collapsed against the witch.

Valina stumbled against the added weight before finally managing to ease the girl to the ground. Hesitantly, she checked for a pulse…

It was weak. The rhythm of Dia's lifeblood pumping through her veins was slow, getting slower, and desperately frail. Within seconds, the beat evaporated to nothing, leaving the empty shell behind.

"She's dead," the witch stated quietly.

Mandarin stared. Evidently his mind was still trying to catch up with what had happened. "What…killed her?" he asked lamely.

Valina was about to shrug, but then something in the back of her mind chirped 'infection' and the sorceress slowly pulled up the girl's loose sleeve to reveal the wounds.

"…Ah…"

A pause.

The monkey had the audacity at that point to act indignant, dropping the gun to his side and placing a hand on his bony hip. "I don't suppose you have any idea as to what she was talking about then?"

Valina began to shake her head, when there was a faint rustling a ways away from the pair. Valina's mind provided her with an answer to her minion's question almost immediately. She swallowed and turned her head to look over her shoulder.

"Simian?"

"What?"

"You remember the day we started looking for Skeleton King's skull?"

Mandarin's face contorted into a fierce scowl at the memory. "Are you referring to when you tortured me for information? Yes, I believe I _vaguely_ recall that…" In the back of her mind Valina acknowledged the animosity in the monkey's words. Apparently, he still wasn't over the incident. "But what does _that_ have to do with anything?"

There was another rustle from a different direction and closer this time. Valina slowly stood up.

"Do you remember what the Skeletal Circle did with the skull?"

The orange simian raised a questioning eyebrow. "They tried to curse the city."

More rustling, in several places now. This time Mandarin heard it too and jumped.

"And what with?"

"What does that have to do with-?"

"Answer the _question,_ Mandarin."

The rustling was very close now and from all sides. The monkey raised the gun taking a few steps back. He licked his lips nervously. "Frogs were first, I think, then while we were in that chamber battling the Hyper Force and your parents it was spiders…"

Valina moved, and now she and her minion were standing back-to-back. "And what else?"

It suddenly dawned on the simian what the witch was getting at, and he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The noise in the bushes got louder as it neared, and both mistress and minion said in unison,

"Rats."

A large, greasy, black ball of fur suddenly leapt out of the foliage, screeching horribly. The pair barely had time to act as they threw themselves out of the way. Valina landed awkwardly on her side, but Mandarin rolled and was on his feet in an instant. Sparing only a second to take aim, the monkey pulled the trigger of the gun. Blood splattered from the creature's shoulder. It squealed and thrashed, as if trying to shake out the bullet.

It was as if the gunshot had been a signal. Black exploded from the bushes; squealing as they rushed towards them. Twin sets of reddish eyes glimmered out from bodies the size of motorbike sidecars. How many were they? Too useless to count. Mandarin swung the gun around and squeezed.

The onslaught of gunshots clashed horribly with the wailing of the rats, and the furry black bodies jerked and fell to the ground as they were struck. Valina stared, aghast, at the scene before her. She bit her tongue to quell the urge to egg the monkey on, and instead scuttled back. Her minion had a usable weapon against the oncoming enemy; she, as much as she hated admitting it, was close to helpless. It would do her no good to draw attention to herself.

Her eyes scanned the battlefield. She'd never seen so many _rats_ in her life. Let alone such massive, demonic-looking ones…

Her gaze settled on what was probably the biggest, most _gnarled _rat of the group, and she gasped.

With the chain wrapped around its teeth, it held Dia's amulet in its mouth.

Forgetting her earlier plan to try to remain ambiguous, Valina, still moving backwards, yelled out while pointing anxiously, "Mandarin! That one! _Shoot that one-!_"

She had touched something vaguely soft and definitely _wet_ behind her, and she jolted and looked.

It was Dia. Or what was left of her... The witch stifled a shriek, staring at a very sickly looking rat. The creature looked up from its meal, and began to hiss. It started to advance on her, the hair on its spine raised, and Valina's hand felt around on the ground. Slowly, the creature's nose came within inches of hers, and as it gave a strangely high-pitched growl the sorceress's hand shot up, holding a thick, heavy stone. There was a loud CRACK as it made contact with the rat's temple, and the witch got to her feet quickly and scrambled away from the rodent, aware that more were coming to take its place…

* * *

Mandarin had lost sight of Valina.

He tried to alternate between shooting things and scanning the area for his disappeared mistress, but was having a time trying to do so. _How_ had she managed to go missing? She'd been right behind him a moment ago-

A long, grey hairless tail lashed out from nowhere and whipped Mandarin across the chest, sending him flying. He landed hard on his back, the wind getting knocked clean out of him, and the gun bounced from his grip. The simian struggled to regain his breath and desperately reached for the weapon, when suddenly he felt himself be lifted off the ground.

His abdomen was trapped between the rat's huge jaws.

Mandarin began wriggling in a frantic attempt to free himself. Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he started screaming in pain, thrashing, madly.

The rat's jaws were closing.

There were a series of loud crunching cracks as the sharp teeth began to penetrate his armor. Mandarin could feel them start to dig into his stomach as his ribs were forced in on themselves; the two massive teeth on the rat's upper jaw started to sink in _just_ beside his spine-

Gasping for air as pain began to overwhelm him, the monkey clawed frantically at anything he could reach. The creature whipped its head from side to side in response.

Mandarin yelped and gagged on the blood that was making its way up his throat. Forcing as much logic as he could into his brain above the pain and panic that swirled within his thoughts, he reached down. Finding the spot on the creature's neck just under the jaw, the simian stabbed down and ripped sideways, tearing the rat's throat open. Its grip loosened, and Mandarin tore himself out of its maw, crashing to ground. The creature stumbled around drunkenly as its life bled out from its neck, before finally falling to the ground with a dull thud.

The monkey lay choking on the now bloodied soil, trying to breathe and not simultaneously inhale blood. He had to struggle more as seconds ticked away. He couldn't do it. His ribs were too crushed and agony had enveloped his mind. The panic that set in then was predictable, but that didn't make it any more convenient. His artificial arm convulsed horribly, repeatedly slamming itself against the ground. Mandarin squeezed his eyes shut and prayed- _begged_ for it all to stop…

He didn't notice five more huge rats spot his prone form on the ground...

* * *

Valina shrieked out of nothing but pure fear, an occurrence that was, admittedly, new to her, though she was rapidly becoming familiar with the action. A rat had her cornered. It had lunged out at her, and had practically caught her. She threw herself out of the way for the umpteenth that night, and tried to scramble away as it reared and sprung again. She barely glanced back at it in time, and this time she flattened herself against the ground. The rodent went soaring over her head, landing several feet away. She forced herself to leap to her feet, then swore vehemently as a massive head rush overtook her.

She didn't have time to throw herself out of the way.

She grunted as she was tackled to the ground by the rat, her skull cracking against the ground. The world spun before her eyes, though all her world currently consisted of was the ugly snout of a rat. The jaws opened wide and lunged forward-

Valina's hands flew upwards and caught the rat's muzzle before it managed to take her head in a bone-crunching grip.

The rodent made a horrible noise of fury and indignation in its throat, spittle flying and hitting the sorceress's face. She grunted with exertion as the creature flailed above her, trying to force its mouth down to her. She hissed in pain suddenly, the rat's claws beginning to dig and slash into arms and stomach as it fought against her waning strength. Perspiration began to form on the witch's brow as she struggled underneath the creature.

Valina frantically glanced around herself, then back at the rodent on top of her. There _had _to be something she could use as a weapon… Or something she could use to somehow throw the rat off… The creature's breath was foul and hot against her face, and its beady black eyes were filled with more hate than she thought it possible to reside in an animal's-

The eyes.

The sorceress swallowed, trying to bring some moisture to her parched throat. Minimal success. Calling on final reserves, Valina straightened out her arms, pushing the rat's head up. It screamed and pushed harder. Abruptly, the witch released her grip, and the rodent's large snout came flying at her face. She jerked her head to the side, and the creature's head smashed into the ground.

While it was disoriented, the witch shakily, disgustedly (but no less quickly) reached over and grasped _inside_ the rodent's eye sockets-

The rat _screamed_.

Valina brought her knees up to her chin underneath the hulking mass of fur, then savagely kicked up with both feet.

She didn't loosen her grip.

There was a terrible, squelching, ripping noise as the rat went flying into the air. It hit the ground on its back, but quickly got back to its feet. It screeched and shook its head from side to side, trying to free itself from the pain and wipe out the blackness that had descended on its vision. Valina retched and scrambled to her feet, throwing two slimy balls as far as she possibly could away from herself.

The sorceress was shaking all over, and it only got worse when she saw three or so more rats descend upon the one she had just blinded. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head, momentarily disregarding that she was still vulnerable. When she opened them again, she saw Mandarin, several meters away, on the ground.

The gun was a few feet away from him.

So were five other rats.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw two of them surround him, the other three occupying themselves with the nearby corpse of one of their kin, and she was moving before she was even aware her brain had sent the signals to her feet. She saw one rat begin to tug on the monkey's arm. As she passed the fallen artillery, Valina bent down and scooped it up, but didn't slow. She pulled the trigger and held it.

The first shot caught one of the rodents just above the eye. It was dead instantly.

The second shot missed, hitting the trunk of some partially dead tree in the background.

The third shot caught the second rat in the right back paw.

In retrospect, it may have been easier to shoot if she hadn't been barreling forward so haphazardly…

The injured rat and one that had been hunched over the deceased hissed and started to attack, but by that point Valina was close enough to deliver a killing blow. She reached her minion, felt her ability to breathe disintegrate. He was practically lying in a pool of his own black blood.

"Mandarin!" She really shouldn't have wasted time calling his name, she knew. It was doubtful that he was even going to answer in the first place, and either way it would've much more fruitful to simply pick him up and run. But she wanted some sort of reaction. Some sort of acknowledgement that he wasn't (completely) dead yet, be it a grunt or a simple twitch of the tail. To her…relief? The monkey slowly twisted his head and blearily looked up at her.

A squeal. Valina's head snapped up as another rat leapt into the air and began to fall upon them. The trigger of the gun was pulled again, and the rodent's body jerked in the air before crashing to the ground not far from her and Mandarin.

The witch glanced around herself, and saw the rest of the pack closing in. They were becoming very annoyed with their meal putting up such a troublesome fight. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the large, menacing looking rat that held the amulet. Surprisingly, however, she found that she had higher priorities that trying to retrieve what it possessed…

Valina bent down, snatching up her minion, before she held down the trigger of the gun and waved the barrel around in front of her. She got a good number of rats with that, and a number of other ones leapt out of the way. The path was more or less clear.

Running as fast as she could, the sorceress darted through the opening she'd made, and sprinted away, breathing heavily, while the vile rodents momentarily occupied themselves with the freshly-dead.

The moon had taken its place high above; on the other hand it could not penetrate the dense canopy. It was to flee or fight them off in _total_ night, and neither of their lives would come out of that battle.

* * *

Relief washed over the sorceress when she found the rocky outcrop. It was merely a strange protrusion of stone covered in moss, like a big 7 leaning over the ground, but it was shaped in such a way that if she laid Mandarin in the hollow and stood in front of him, the rock formed a roof over her head.

_There's no one to watch my back. How many bullets are left in this thing? And they're coming._ Valina was glancing all around now, up at the edge of rock (if a rat tried to jump down from the outcrop it'd have to land in front of her), left and right (she'd need quick reflexes and a good eye if they came from the side), and deep into the jungle growth.

Moments trickled by. Then, directly in front of her between a narrow tree trunk and a broad leaf, a tiny light.

The large rat Valina had seen before leapt, exploding from the shrubbery with its front paws outstretched. For one long instant the saliva trailing down its teeth flashed in Valina's vision, but then she realized that she'd waited too long to fire-

Reflexes tilted the gun up, pressed urgently and painfully against the trigger. As the animal curved in the air, on its way down to meet her, a bluish ball of light flew out of the barrel and burst.

It was akin to a small supernova. Brightness expanded in all directions, sweeping through the trees, burning through the atmosphere. A particular image printed itself onto Valina's retina: The airborne rat with its paws flailing in the sky, lit spectacularly from below before-

The mage jump back when the carcass –half of it burned away- fell to the ground. Right out of the sky, with a resonating _thud._

A dozen meters away in the bushes, the rest of the pack froze. Confusion rippled through their ranks. One second their alpha had commenced the attack with a flying leap; the next the prey had shot light at them. The general idea was that their alpha was _dead._ He, whom no other rat could challenge, was lying before their eyes with his entrails hanging out of a gigantic charred hole.

Valina was equally surprised at this result. A portion of her brain acknowledged that her shoulders were trembling, a cocktail of fear, exhaustion and excess adrenaline surging through her veins. _Gun's never done that before. Must have pressed one of the buttons..._

One of the rats padded forward in an attempt to salvage the attack. It tried to jump but a bullet in its back leg had shorn through the muscle. The prey didn't react. The rat could spy the petrifying terror in its two eyes. So it chose to saunter forward and to the side, one hop at a time, gimlet eyes locked with the prey.

On the contrary, the sorceress was gently feeling along the gun's handle. Which button had it been? _Just shoot, shoot it!_ She pressed one at random and aimed between the approaching rat's eyes. Four meters away, two meters...

Nothing happened, other than that the rat pounced. Front paws landed on her shoulders. Crushing weight. The same button, a prayer and a pull. A silken sound issued forth, the beautiful sound of death sliding through a creature's brain.

Short-range.

The next minute passed in a whirl. The pack surged as one, certain that sheer speed and numbers could win this struggle. A third button flung bullets whistling _through_ the animals.

Long range.

Valina found the first one and sent triumphant orbs of blue light to three others. But then they all fanned out and readied themselves to attack _at once-_

Valina had nothing except a tremendous feeling of being _right,_ and the fourth button.

Long-range blast.

The last of the pack were wiped away with the sound of a scream. When their fallen bodies smoked and the sighing of the earth replaced their death-screams, Valina sank to her knees. Her jaw fell open and a glassy liquid sheen covered her eyes.

Oh so many times she could have been irreversibly wrong...

And the amulet lying in the dust glowed with heat instead of magic.

* * *

Mandarin saw everything.

He remembered hyperventilating when the teeth crashed down, he remembered blacking out soon after he hit the ground to meet a myriad of faces in his dreams... The same face, really, popping in and out of the gloom. Limp hair, pale skin, red eyes.

When the simian's eyes had finally opened it made little difference; a shell of darkness cocooned him. He could hear. Dirt shifting. Someone breathing.

The orange monkey was lying flat on his back –spread out like a star and shivering. He tried one slow breath and a cautious exhale, and winced. A line of fire ran from neck to navel with blackened blood marking the trail.

But he was awake, quite awake. Unbeknownst to him, his flesh was _literally_ pulling itself together: Muscle and tissue infused with sticky veins of Formless ooze melded into one again. The microscopic black lines meandered through the meat of his body next to nerves and capillaries, working like thread to heal the monkey with each second. Mandarin's lacerated lung sealed back together and suddenly the next breath wasn't so agonizing.

_I am unstoppable..._

Light.

Then the last stand between Valina and the jungle rats passed right before his eyes. Through half-closed slits the monkey witnessed the incineration of the alpha male, then as his eyelids found the strength to lift he saw more: Valina's experimental shots, the final all-or-nothing lunge.

Mandarin tried warnings that came out as croaks, a reach that became a twitch in the fingers. But he felt just fine. Like a cripple he lay unable to speak or move, while Valina defended herself as deftly as she could. When the fearful episode had ended Mandarin lay as he had before, eyes wide open, adrenaline swimming through his limbs as if _he_ had been the one holding the gun.

Shadows descended again.

* * *

Come look at this.

The air is as murky as the womb, soul-chilling as a grave. One, the woman, sits with her knees drawn tight together. She has her foot on her weapon and holds her prize between her hands. It warms her fingers. The other lies on his back, blinking in bafflement. He cannot comprehend why he still lives. Silently, he rises into a sitting position.

"_...unstoppable..." _a voice says, though not where we can hear it.

They are both trying to quell their trembling. She in particular has many matters to be concerned about. The Skull Sorceress cannot see, and when one cannot see, what is the truth? What is real in the fathomless depths?

The simian has not made a sound, not even a wordless murmur. And she, not sensing him near her, wonders if he has gone. A disturbing little spike of apprehension in her chest; she leans forward on her knees and stretches out her arms. Valina is just trying to find where Mandarin is lying, but if you held up a candle to this scene you would see golden light flickering against a face with half-closed eyes, and open palms seemingly searching for...

...an embrace?

"_What is she doing?"_

She heeds this voice not. Something against her fingers, a body that stiffens at her touch. She latches onto it and pulls it close. In her arms, up to her face to listen for a breath. The textures against her forearms are what they should be –that of the monkey's fur and armor- but feel strange and alien.

"Mandarin?"

Is this you? Are you all right? I was worried. What else can be said in a voice so quiet and nervous?

"_What is she doing?"_

The monkey is frozen, so rigid that his arms and legs have gone numb. He does not know what to say, scared to move. The arms cradling his head are soft. A fluttering, overwhelming desire seizes him, quite apart from savage instinct. His weary bones ache happily to be here, finally at rest. He doesn't want this to end.

"I'm...fine."

Valina feels the weight on her heart lift when he turns his face into her palm. She sighs in the dark and rests a hand on his head.

"_Stop it! Stop it this instant!"_

The witch smiles into the invisible trees. "I should have known it would take more than jungle rats to get rid of you." The monkey is hugged a little tighter, nonetheless.

"_I'llkillyouI'llkillyouI'llkillyou-!"_

Something explodes.

* * *

Grimmlock –former favorite disciple of the Skeleton King, formidable sorcerer, the sole ghost of Limbo- sank to the floor.

Come look at him.

"Val...ina..." The syllables dripped from slack lips. Without warning he slumped forward, a grey hand reaching for his chest; echoes of screams flung themselves through his mind and he drew hoarse, ragged breaths. His hands were shaking.

It was still a game. Grimmlock had to keep the bigger picture in focus, not give in to the flood of rage. Pawns fall by the wayside. Knights and bishops, in service to their king. All of them, always for the king. Rooks, bishops, pawns - Queens, even.

"Not her," he rasped. "Never her... I won't allow it! _I won't allow it!_"

The screams in Grimmlock's head escaped all at once. The walls of his house shook in the roaring, deafening waves. All the chairs were blown off their legs and crashed haphazardly against the wooden panels. Outside, the dull, empty sky howled around a crimson sun.

"I'll _tear _you _apart! _I want your throat to burst under my fingers! Damn you!"

The witch-_Valina. His_ witch-!

Again and again the wizard blasted the seats about the shack. One at a time, in threes, all at once, it wasn't enough. He needed more. His eyes were wide and utterly crazed, his breathing was so erratic he might not have bothered breathing at all for all the good it was doing him. The house? Destroy the whole house? Damnit, there simply wasn't enough here to _demolish-_

Suddenly it all stopped. The furniture dropped to the floor, and then there was quiet.

Grimmlock was shaking with the effort of staying in control, just barely suppressing the storm inside. Couldn't afford to waste energy. Plan falling to pieces. Needed to think. Pacing. Deadly steps, like a tiger eyeing its cage bars and noting what lay beyond them: I'll remember you. I'll come for you-

Oh, Grimmlock couldn't _wait_ till he could see Valina again...

The hand that was not clutching his heart –now beating so quickly it was simply quivering in his ribcage- made one great sweeping motion by Grimmlock's side.

A dagger with a black and silver grip materialized in his hand. Grimmlock brought it before his face, hooked fingers encircling the obsidian-hue handle. He saw his own bloody eyes reflected in the blade.

"_Is this a dagger which I see before me?_ Why, I do believe it is."

Grimmlock was going to destroy everything that stood between him and his witch.

* * *

Mandarin gasped and curled into the fetal position. A guttural voice growled in his consciousness, as if the speaker was right behind Mandarin's ear.

"_I'm going to kill you. Have no idea. Going to kill you."_

Someone stabbed him with an invisible blade, sending lightning bolts up his spine.

Mandarin screamed, loud and high-pitched. Valina threw her hands up to her ears; it sounded like a banshee, a scythe against the human soul's tolerance. The monkey's cry made something shudder sickeningly inside her.

She realized her wrist was being pulled down, crushed in Mandarin's rough hand. "He's going to kill you," the simian whispered in between shuddering gasps. For a moment he seemed about to howl again, but it cut short. "Going to kill me. He's going to burn you!"

"What's the matter? Mandarin, why- Let me help you!"

It all sounded so faint. Voices...didn't matter -voices couldn't help –_stop it!_

Mandarin was going to kill someone. He knew it, from the sound of pumping hearts all around him. His very soul wanted bloodshed. It was kill or die convulsing on the dirt. Getting tasered wasn't as awful as this. Flowers of pain blossomed all over his body, where moments ago had been exquisite sensations of rest and tenderness. One blow after another; Mandarin bucked and squeezed himself into a ball, only to garner no relief. One episode seemed to originate from his very heart-!

Someone was sliding the blade all the way to the hilt.

It all came at once. The knowledge, the shame. Grimmlock, that sorcerer, was in his head. The very first command when Mandarin had picked up the amulet: _"Take me to the pit."_ The insane man's puppet all along. And now Grimmlock was _furious._

"You..." Blindly, Mandarin writhed around and sought to meet Valina's eyes. He couldn't see, but he could smell, hear even the blood rushing up by her temples. "You're the reason. You're the reason he's doing this!"

The monkey clone attacked.

Valina was unprepared for this. She felt a staggering blow on her midsection, where one of the rats had mauled at her. It took her breath way, forced her to sob tearlessly.

Sensing another swipe approaching, Valina threw Mandarin's body off her lap. No time to wonder about it. In a split second he lunged back. Blood splashed into her eyes and the woman yelped. Mandarin had thrown himself right on top of her, scratching and breathing into her face. Valina managed to pry one of her knees between Mandarin's small chest and hers, felt the simian thrashing. In one movement, Valina rolled onto her side and kicked him right in the face.

"Mandarin! What are you doing?" She felt the blood trickling down her cheeks like tears. For some reason there was no harsh growl in response, not even the sound of heaving breathing.

Complete night. Where was the gun when she needed it? He could come from anywhere-

There was a noise behind her, and as she spun quickly to meet it, the witch did probably the worst thing she could've done at that moment.

She slipped, and fell.

Now on her back, Valina could do nothing as her minion landed on top of her (whose left hand was now once again a massive crab claw) apart from scream her terror.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the sorceress briefly flashed back to when a large rat had pinned her to the ground (had that battle really only just been an hour or two ago? It felt like it should've been days). This situation was alarmingly similar…she was once again pinned by an animal that wanted nothing more than her blood.

The witch tried to fling up her arms in defense, but too quick the huge claw was around her throat. Valina froze, feeling momentarily that the slightest movement would cause her attacker to end her life. The monkey slowly leaned in.

"Now, Skull Sorceress, I am going to kill you. Indefinitely," Mandarin whispered. "Not that mad Grimmlock. Not like the Skeleton King. By dirtying my hands with your blood, repaying you for all the torment. Even when you're _not_ trying to hurt me, I seem to suffer for you..."

The feeling of having her neck in his claws was..._dizzying._ It was so solid; it grounded him through the rage and stinging agony. He shouldn't have waited to do this...

Valina closed her eyes. "Not like this."

Mandarin raised an eyebrow, just slightly, without realizing it.

_So it ends like this? When a score of yesterdays ago I had straddled the simian like this and battered him with my fists, and a dozen tomorrows after that we had the Chiro boy at our mercy and he bled onto the street... Now it is me. Here. Now._

_I can't die on the ground again...!_

The ringing in Valina's ears alerted her to the fact that she had screamed this last lachrymal thought.

"Well." A rueful laugh. "But so it _must_ end, hmm? Mandarin, I do want you to know that...hurting you all those times...I regret it now, don't I?"

Mandarin could feel her shoulders moving with her laughter.

Oh gods.

Mandarin paused and in that dreadful moment a haze of awareness came to him. Somehow, through the pain, the monkey began to see the pieces of what was happening before him and put them together.

_He was in pain._

_He was trying to kill Valina._

The pain was starting to _swell_. Mandarin was losing his mind. Who was he again? Did it matter? Who was this woman he gripped with his claw? Where were they? The intense aching devoured everything.

_Why was he trying to kill the witch?_

_To make the pain __**stop**__._

_Who was causing him so much pain?_

_The witch-_

No.

_The wizard, the wizard from that misty place was causing his pain._

The monkey's mind sharpened, and so did the pain.

_Grimmlock was trying to use him as a pawn that mad evil man was trying to _use_ him this pain was because he'd been displeased this was just like what _Valina_ always did-_

_Valina caught him when he fell she protected him from the guards Valina saved him from rats she'dheldhimValinahadheldhimshe'dbeenworriedabouthimshe'daskedifhewasalright-_

The simian was shaking. Agony was all he knew. Every nerve in his body was screaming for the bloodshed that would release him from this.

But his mouth opened, and Mandarin said, "No."

The claw wrenched itself open.

* * *

Grimmlock increased the pain. As much as he could inflict and then more. A furious, harsh growl raked out from his mouth. He couldn't remember a time he'd felt this much _rage_. And yet there was still something under that. Yet another one of the undistinguishable feelings that had never been felt by him before and as of yet didn't have a name. This one was strangely dissimilar to all the others, however…

This one…hurt…

Another great surge of feelings flashed across the wizard's mind; these, however, where not his own. Almost against his will, he paused his torment briefly to view what was taking place outside.

He was surprised by what he beheld.

The monkey had _attacked_ Valina, and he had not been merciful about it. The ex-witch had blood smeared across her face, her stomach was bleeding, and she was lying on her back, the simian's claw clutching her throat. A part of Grimmlock felt a rush of deep satisfaction, of sadistic, bitter pleasure; yet another part of him was screaming in horror.

The sorcerer theorized momentarily on the purpose of the monkey's actions, incensed but (though he'd never admit to it) confused. It occurred to him that the only logical explanation was that the wretch had somehow connected Valina to the misery he was feeling, and was trying to eliminate her as a source.

He was truly trying to kill her.

Grimmlock felt a panicked, frantic lurch in his chest. _You still need them, you fool! You still need them both!_

The simian, he saw, had removed his claw from the woman's neck, but who knew how long he would be able to restrain himself (or _why_ he was restraining himself in the first place, for that matter)? Grimmlock hesitated for a moment, then released his grip, the silver dagger clattering to the floor, leaving him still trembling with half-sated rage, and with things churning in his chest and stomach.

He took solace, however, in the fact that even when the monkey collapsed, Valina made no move to go to him, instead sitting up slowly and bringing her knees up to her chin, staring at him wide-eyed in complete shock.

* * *

When the sun rose over the eastern horizon, Valina and Mandarin were in the same positions they had been in when the night had fallen. The witch sat hugging her knees, staring into the middle distance. The simian was lying on the ground –on his side this time, as if he wanted to curl into a shell. His arms folded against the length of his body, hands under his cheek. Once again, strange feelings were flooding him. Every now and then he shivered.

"There's something really wrong with you, isn't there?" Valina said sadly.

Mandarin only brought his knees closer to his chin. The dirt scraped loudly; it had been cold during the night.

"Why did he hurt you? What pushed him over the edge?" Valina pushed.

"You knew?"

"I wondered. I never truly suspected that he had any hold over you."

A part of Mandarin sank down into his stomach. "Then here we part ways."

The witch turned sharply, her black dress bunching around her waist. "What are you talking about?" She said this with a barely contained glare.

"You can't trust me. I tried to kill you a few hours ago. That was my hand around your neck."

Valina stared steadily at him. She had no answer for at least a minute.

"I'm not going to abandon you," Valina said. The sun was high enough now for her to spot it in the sky, a burning ball in the redness.

"Do you hear me?" she asked it. "I'm not going to leave him behind. You can't take him from me.

"He's mine forever."


	12. The Game Has Changed

_I can trust Valina. But I can't trust myself._

Hand-sized packages tumbled out of the glove box when Mandarin opened it. Valina sighed in relief at the sight of their stickers -red and white crosses. Mandarin handed her one with eyes downcast. He knew he should be shaking but his arm moved with fluid control, like it always had...

Valina attacked the package with her nails, took out the bandage.

In the morning light Valina's wound looked dreadful. Two gashes right across her stomach, her dress hanging in thin rags around it. She bit her lip and tore the dress some more, exposing the cuts so she could apply the bandage right on top. Tightly. It felt better.

There was a backpack, small and light, hidden under the seat as well. Valina put their gun in that, then started taking the amulets off her belt and out of her cloak pockets. They went in the pack: _seven...eight...nine..._The witch held the tenth in her hand and grimly twisted the stone.

A light flashed on the map, but disappeared. On the other side of the city a second light blinked urgently and was snuffed out. This happened several times, tiny lights flaring up within seconds of each other and vanishing. No location was certain, the dots came faster, everywhere...

"What is this?" The thought of there being _no more _amulets entered the witch's mind. No other sorcerers who'd managed to hide their treasures away. But she had ten already! She was so _close—!_

The lights stopped appearing at all. In a panic Valina decreased the focus on her map. Perhaps she was just too far away; she needed to search the whole city, the rest of the desert if she had to...

The map was depressingly blank.

Valina bit her lip till it was numb and zoomed out even more. A light in the corner! She dragged it into the centre and focused –_two _of them! But it wasn't part of the city, this section of the map was detached. Unlined grayness surrounded the beacons, and _there _was the rest of Shuggazoom set apart.

Valina stared at the stone in her hands, determined to understand. Two dots. Separated... from...

A range of emotions passed over Valina's face in the following second. Guilt, some measure of fear, and then absolute dread. A second was all it took. She threw the chain over her neck, grabbed the clutch and the car _tore _across the desert, sienna dust rising like fog behind.

* * *

"The off-world prison?" Mandarin said in disbelief.

Valina flicked the tickets in her hand. She'd bought them from the machine; the ship wasn't departing for another hour and no one was around the port. A flag with silver lettering marked the docking bay: _Sky Ferries._

Shuggazoom had three moons. One was for niche tourism, for the affluent and daring. Developments were being negotiated for the second, either for mining or tourism. The last moon, the smallest, the bleakest, was a high security prison.

"I don't want to go either, Mandarin."

"You're saying that _we, _are going to walk into a prison. To _visit_." Mandarin's eyes were almost begging her to be lying. "There'll be people on that ship. Honeymooners off to look at the pretty little asteroids. Unbelievably rich men poking moon rocks. And they're not going to notice former Public Enemies Number Two and Three sitting with them? One of which, I'll remind you, is a damn skeleton-monkey?"

Valina laughed, which surprised them both. She held up a second grey, unmarked backpack. "Guess what I found in the trunk?"

Mandarin stared at what she tipped out. "Still no, I'm afraid."

* * *

_"War crimes," they told him._

It explained why they were on the off-world prison. Sentences for war crimes were brutal, to match the war. You wouldn't expect an old lady here, but war crimes made sense. Prisoners came here and grew old, yes, but rarely _as _old. The Prison on the Moon. People said it was full of loonies but the truth was that it was cold, unforgiving and once you were there _it _made _you _mad.

So, war crimes. People didn't get taken from their home and planted on a floating rock unless they deserved it. At least the staff only worked for a month at a time_. He _got to go home.

The man's name was John and he took care of half the women's building. This one nodded to him as he checked the cells. Within a week of her arrival she'd said hello.

Then the offhand remarks had come, polite little things, something to break the crushing silence of the prison and completely distract him. John always walked away feeling like he didn't know where he was. The smile he returned never lingered.

He didn't like her. Two weeks into his month-long shift, she'd mentioned that she was worried about her husband; he was locked up as well. Lung problems, or something. And every time the weather changed he'd break out into coughs, he's not actually _sick, _you see, just a weak chest and the heaters in here set a different temperature every day for some reason... Why is that, sir?

Third Wednesday, John saw her crying. Not loud liquid fireworks. This lady cried in quiet, slow rivers. He walked past her without a word that day. He still didn't like her.

But the appeal was made by John, many "hullo"s later. Husband and wife were put opposite each other; they could see the other's face and talk without raising their voices too much. Occasionally, there was a joke and they chuckled.

_It took her eight months of trying, but Vesper Cinco did it. She had built a peaceful little cocoon within her confinement._

Which is why she was extremely surprised to hear she had a visitor.

* * *

Valina was led to an interrogation room.

She crossed her ankles and leaned back, eyes travelling from corner to corner. The lights in this square room were more grey than white and made the place look tired and dim. There was a long white table in front of her, two chairs on the other side.

After twenty minutes the prisoners were ushered in, the door promptly slamming behind them. It looked like they'd aged decades in two years.

The man was developing a humped back, white hairs poking out of his ears. As he walked his mouth opened and closed soundlessly and his chin was covered in vertical wrinkles, innumerable and closely packed like a whale's baleen.

His wife walked a little faster. Valina was actually surprised; this woman wasn't meant to be the thin shuddering crone, she was always meant to be the other kind, plump and rosy and... and not like this. Her rusty red hair was cut short. One of her eyelids drooped but the eyes themselves held a gleam, a suggestion of something magnificent. But then she got a better look at the visitor and slowed.

They'd told Ma Cinco that her... _niece _was here to see her. But the woman in the chair lifted her head, locks of black hair falling away. Her hair was down. She wore a pair of blue jeans. Her two hands were resting on her lap, white and serene. It wasn't her niece.

"You're not dead!" the old woman blurted.

"Congratulations, neither are you two. Sit." Valina waved a hand at the empty chairs and watched the couple hobble over. Her mother was still staring at her, at the clear eyes and the lips that smiled as she added, "You look terrible."

Pa Cinco grimaced. "Can't expect any bloody respect..."

Valina was barely looking at him as she held up a hand. "Don't waste your breath. I'll say it now: I need your Circle amulets."

Ma continued locking eyes with her daughter. Cheeks looked darker. Weak jaw and wrists. The girl didn't look as self-assured as she sounded...

"I'm opening a world door. The rite needs thirteen amulets to work, and I want yours. You're both clever, or mad, enough to have hidden them. They serve you no purpose while you're in _prison._ So give them to me."

She waited. Eventually her father started wheezing and pounding his chest with his fist. It could have been laughter.

Her mother settled for an emphatic, "Why?"

"There's a man in a place called Limbo. His name is Grimmlock."

Ice shot through Ma Cinco's mind. Grimmlock, _the man who devours magic. _And Valina, Ma made the conclusion immediately, was one of his victims. Bastard...

"If he ain't dead either, he's gonna thrash you." Pa, that time.

"Grimmlock," Ma cut in, "is a dangerous man. It'd be better for you to walk away."

"Are you trying to tell me what to do, Mother? What he stole is a part of me and I feel dead without it _and I am going to kick his brain out through his ears_. I need that circle to be complete. I know you both kept your amulets, meaningless symbols they may be to you now. So where are they?"

Pa Cinco smiled widely. His eyes shrank to evil slits in his chalky white head. "Wrong! Don't have them."

Valina gritted her teeth so hard she could hear them squeaking.

"We let them go. The other Circle people, they'd save their amulets or go down with them, poor bastards. They hung on and when they lost they _suffered_. Shriveled like worms. We just rejected the amulets. You think we're just like them?" The inside of his mouth was red and gummy, flapping open and closed when he spoke.

"You're unbelievers, that's what."

"Which are you? A slave or a survivor? Your mother and I," he chewed excitedly on a bit of emptiness, "can make magic outta _anything!_"

Valina's ankles shot apart like cut cables. Her chair was shoved back, she felt hot rage shoot through to her fist. She slammed it on the table and that's when the stomach wound twinged horribly—

Her mother blinked in surprise. She watched the woman in front of her subside slowly, fist balled on the table surface and other hand splayed across her abdomen. The way she folded up one joint at a time... "You're hurt."

"_Yes. Thank you._" Valina's eyelids fluttered. "Mother, I need that amulet—" A sudden wheeze; her lungs weren't very strong and any movement bunched up her stomach muscles.

Saying nothing, Ma stood up. She walked around the table. And for the first time in years, she took her daughter's hand.

"It's true, you know," the old woman said quietly. "Magic comes from anywhere. By the way, I'm not that sorry to see you, Valina. Just something to think about if you want." Her brown little hand patted the younger's, then let go.

Valina stared at her mother's back, ambling back to her side of the table. She felt an itch by the corner of her eye, lifted a hand to it. Instead of a dried cut the woman felt a raised scar instead. Valina's breath hitched as she lifted one edge of the bandage on her stomach. A few tender prods later she whipped up her head.

"Yes, I healed you all up. Tada. Now close that mouth, you look ridiculous."

"With magic? But you have no am—"

"It ain't what magic looks like. It's what magic _is_," Pa said from his chair.

"I don't understand."

Her father shrugged. "Explains why you've been scouring the whole globe for these things."

"But will you help me?"

"Valina, be quiet and look down!"

She didn't, but felt with her hand instead. It instinctively went to her chest where her own amulet would normally be. Valina felt the shape of two.

"Neat trick," she mumbled. "Are they real?"

"We don't believe in them, so they don't exist."

"But you do. So there they are."

Ma cleared her throat. "I suppose you want a 'good luck'?"

"I suppose _you _want a 'thank you'."

Valina stood up and stayed there for a moment. After a moment of indecisiveness she nodded at the two people opposite, lips pursed. Her body scurried away to the door of its own accord.

_Magic out of anything, _she thought. They were either crazy, or the most powerful people she'd ever known.

* * *

Valina had chosen not to think about that by the time she got back on the ship. Mandarin was next to her, a black hood over his face and his hands hidden in pockets. It was a bit of a wait before the hulking, silver machine rocked away from the dock.

As it left the rails, there was a sudden sensation of falling that left Valina sick to her stomach.

The ship curved away from the tiny moon...

Within minutes they'd covered enough distance so the prison buildings were no longer distinguishable from the rock it stood on. Valina looked out of the window, then. The moon was bright enough to burn its image into her eyes. Delicate and white, as if carved out of foam, a ball just floating in darkness.

And yes, she thought it was beautiful.

* * *

Almost two nights ago, Mercury had wrenched the door handle, kicked it the rest of the way and fought his way out of the taxi. A folded pad of what had once been a tablecloth was held in place on Atalanta's shoulder by another strip of fabric, wrapped around repeatedly. It was already saturated with blood.

He put his shoulder to the front door and pushed forward with all the strength he had left. It looked dramatic and heroic. Mercury liked looking dramatic and heroic. On one of the rare times he achieved this, he wasn't paying attention.

Five minutes later he was sipping a bottle of water, hopping from one foot to the other beside the doorway of the sickroom. His employer was hunched over by the bed, tending to his daughter. It was too dim in here. Mercury flicked the switch for the extra lights. In the blink of an eye six down-lights came to life and sprayed sterile whiteness all over the room.

Cadel's shoulders tensed, and he straightened. His face said it all.

"That bad?" Mercury's own voice beat upon his eardrums like the slow, deep signal for war.

The man swept the bottom edge of his eye socket with an aged middle finger. There had been no tears there, but he was obviously worried. The old man's mouth was bent into a slanted line, keeping whatever thoughts he had locked inside. Silence for too long a moment, then:

"Yes."

There was a second silence while Mercury took in this lonely word. His tongue rolled around, pressing hard against the roof of his mouth. The water tasted salty and horrible. "Right..." he said slowly. More thoughts came. "Wait. It's just a flesh wound," Mercury tried. "Atalanta's taken worse than this, and she's made it out of more than just—"

The young man's eye drifted to the woman in question. She lay flat on the bed without a pillow to support her, only a foam neck-rest to keep it in place. The blood had been cleaned from the ragged hole in her neck and now there was a proper dressing on the wound. Mercury glanced over her limp arms, pale lips, her chest that rose and fell only _minimally..._

Whoa.

He swore under his breath. "No. This isn't good enough." Mercury closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was prepared to say something (it was probably going to be something heroic) but Cadel cut him off with a subtle raise of the hand.

"Go take a look at her. Just in case," the man intoned.

When Mercury got to Atalanta's bedside, he took her hand and massaged it gently. He wasn't really sure what he could do here, so he took his time. A minute passed, then another, in quiet reflection. Anxiety flashed through his heart, yes, but as he stared at this woman's ashen grey face he could only give a tiny smile.

"You're gonna make it, all right?"

Mercury turned his head towards the doorway. The room was empty except for him and Atalanta. Cadel was gone. "Shit," Mercury breathed, and snapped back to Atalanta, whose hand he gripped –breath fast, blood pounding—!

* * *

She wanted to cry for no reason. No sound came out when she did. A portion of her mind acted as an ice cold brand, telling her that she, Atalanta, was dead. _I'm a corpse,_ she told herself, and then other voices shot it down and said _no, no, never. _She stomped hard with her right foot; there was a tile underneath it which glowed white against the darkness. Atalanta stomped again, and the checker board tiles lit up for eternity. There was no one else standing on it.

* * *

The dead body's hand whipped out, grabbed.

"What did you do?"

Her first demand was a mere whisper. While she swallowed to restore moisture to her mouth, Atalanta focused her eyes on the shock of bronze-yellow hair. The image gradually became sharper and the fog faded until hazel eyes were added. At the sight of the young man's manic expression there was a pang of intense sadness.

Atalanta used the fistful of Mercury's coat as leverage to pull herself up. She was in the infirmary; as the sheets fell away they revealed a white t-shirt and a drip on her arm.

She coughed a little. "What did you do? Mercury, what did you _do?_" The woman clawed at Mercury's collar, pulled him to her. Red veins ran through Atalanta's eyes. She was hysterical.

A second hand came to his collar and Atalanta shook him, black hair flying about._"Why?" _she wailed.

The rigid spasm of shock had passed. Now Mercury cupped both of Atalanta's cheeks in his hands and kissed her.

He could feel her shivering, from her fingers to her lips. It was like kissing a slightly animated statue. The lips were so cold they burned his and made his brain throb, while he struggled to melt and soften her even slightly with each movement.

When he abandoned that task he looked at Atalanta's face still in his hands, her eyes closed. A few strands of her dark hair moved when he breathed.

"I'll, ah, go get your dad," he muttered.

But he couldn't leave, because she'd grabbed two fistfuls of his straw-like hair and was turning his lips to mush. This kiss was a hundred times warmer, a cloud of fervency around the meeting of their mouths. There was a knee brushing there, two elbows pushing down on his shoulders so that he nearly fell over the bed. This was... more like it.

Mercury tasted tears in it, too.

* * *

_I should be dead and I don't know what happened... _There was still that awful urge to sob her heart out, shuddering in the middle of Atalanta's chest. There weren't many things that could make a woman like her cry and thinking about them made her sick to her stomach.

It was a lovely kiss, in any case. Mercury's hands were still pressing into her back, and Atalanta realized that she felt warm and maybe she'd been wanting that for longer than she thought. "Is this real?" she asked him.

"Yeah. It's real." The boy grinned. To her it looked flustered and panicky. "You were unconscious for a long time. I'm sure your dad said something about antibiotics." Mercury tried another quick kiss then rested his forehead against hers. He laughed nervously –she could hear it in his voice as she breathed in the warmth.

"For a while I thought you were gonna leave us, you know."

Atalanta bit her tongue to keep from shuddering.

"Mercury. I think I'm going to pass out again. Or maybe I'm just very tired. I don't know. Something's going to happen..." Atalanta's eyes closed involuntarily, and the checker board came back inside a dream.

The first time she'd cried in there... _was because she was dead._

The second time was because _no one was there._

* * *

In his head, Mercury called it the Flickering Room. It was a plush room, the walls were painted burgundy, nice furniture and such. It was also kept in near permanent darkness, with nothing more than a single desk lamp on when Cadel was in there. It was his _private _study. Shadows on the wall, all the time.

Mercury had board in his employer's house and was free to go wherever he wished; he told himself he avoided the Flickering Room out of respect. Even though he'd never seen anyone there except Cadel, never seen any of the wall shadows move... It was a bad place.

Tonight, the young man stepped in. The desk lamp was on. He held out a hand to make a giant blurry rabbit shape on the wall; Mercury could also persuade himself that it was just an empty room.

"Not so bad—"

Cadel was behind him.

The light from the hallway cast shadows into the room itself. Mercury saw the man's silhouette on the carpet rise up and recognized it halfway through thinking a curse; he was jumping at everything tonight...

"Sir." The boy spun on his heel, hazel eyes focused. "Atalanta regained consciousness a few minutes ago. And I think you have some explaining to do."

"I do?" Cadel's forehead creased almost imperceptibly, his only reaction.

"Yes, Sir," Mercury replied smartly, staring into the grey silhouette of his master's head. He reached out a hand, past the wall, and switched on the lights of the Flickering Room for the first time. His courage rose immediately. The lights had a warm yellow tint, bulbs encased in glass bells.

"We'd better talk in here, right, Sir?" Mercury cast his eyes around the newly revealed room and walked into the centre. It really was nicely furnished; a few comfortable ottomans were scattered around, and Mercury noticed two glass cabinets against the wall...

Both empty. Mercury bit the inside of his cheek. The entire room echoed Cadel's aristocratic taste, but Mercury knew that years before it would have been tempered with intimate touches. Framed photos on the wall instead of paintings and mirrors. The glass cabinets would have had figurines and sea shells in them. Diane Benedict would have _–had— _put them there.

Mercury realized he'd gone silent since entering. Cadel had sat himself at his writing desk without saying a word. He was watching the boy intensely. Mercury wrenched his thoughts out of the past and steadied himself on the back of an armchair.

"I started figuring it out years ago, Sir," he began. "But now I'm sure. Death lives in this house, right?"

A snatch of breath, knuckles digging into the fabric. Had to keep his gaze steady.

"You arranged for Atalanta's mother to become a ghost, instead of moving on. Death loosened His grip on her and He's been walking at your side ever since. It feels crazy to say it. But I've got a feeling I'm right. Now Atalanta's back from the dead. I _felt _her die, Sir. Didn't get a chance to resuscitate her or grab the defibrillator or anything; ten seconds and she's back.

"He's been waiting. In payment for Diane, He was going to take Atalanta, wasn't He? What kind of deal does Death strike, Sir? Was it 'the first to get themself killed' who became the price? Or was she chosen ahead of time?"

"Mercury. Lower your voice." How could the old man be so unfazed? Cadel's voice was dark, slow as a muddy river.

Mercury thumped the back of the chair. "She came back! And I need to know what's going to happen next, damn it!"

"If that's all you need to know, Mercury... The price will be me."

Mercury stared. "Sir?"

"I arranged a swap. You have nothing to worry about." Cadel seemed not to notice the hairs falling across his eyes. Those shrewd blue eyes. A saber in the warm lighting.

"Ata... She's gonna kill me," Mercury managed after reflective, panicked silence. "You die. Completely disappear, no special treatment from Death. She finds out that I knew your plan. Then I'm _dead meat._"

"Mercury, you are a slow one, aren't you?" Cadel leaned back. "My plan ends up with both of you _alive. _You have my blessing, by the way."

"Thank you. But that's unacceptable, Sir."

He turned his head and hunted for a shadow. With the lights fully on everything looked harmless and the shadows on the wall were no higher than a few feet. But in his mind, Mercury knew there was someone who heard.

"Listening? Forget what the old man just told you," he called out. Mercury was struggling to lock the venom out of his voice. "You can't take the girl. But between me and the old man... It's sudden death. First man to get himself killed, folks."

His mind felt heavy all of a sudden. Like a black cloud had _stomped _on it, then walked off. Mercury shook it away and managed a manic grin. Inside, his heart was steel.

"See you later, Sir."

He turned around and flicked off the lights as he left.

* * *

The car swerved ever so slightly as it turned the corner, but realigned itself quickly after and then continued on smoothly. Mandarin sat in the passenger's seat, watching the city fly by, while Valina sat in the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than was necessary. They hadn't spoken since they'd stepped off the Sky Ferry. The sun was setting once again, and was splattering its pinkish hues onto everything it could reach. The witch blinked a bit as it got in her eyes before irritably flipping down the visor in front of her.

Eventually, Mandarin asked, "Do we have any sort of plan, Witch? Or shall we just barrel forward as per usual and hope for the best?"

Valina kept her eyes fixed on the road. "Once we get this last amulet, we'll open a few portals and enlist some 'help'. After that, we go back to Limbo, get my powers back, redefine Grimmlock's understanding of the word 'suffering', and return back here." She moved her head a fraction to look back at her minion. "Is that enough of a plan for you?"

Mandarin glanced back at her, then shrugged, returning his gaze to the window. "It seems a bit over-simplified, but..."

The witch sent him a look. "Do you have anything to add, then?"

No response. Valina approximated a huff and looked forward again.

"...Then what?"

The woman's brow furrowed. "What?"

"After you get your powers back. What will you do after?"

"What do you mean, Monkey?"

This time Mandarin turned all the way around in his seat to look at her. "I mean, _what will you do_? Will you try to take over the city again, for yourself this time? Send out these monsters you plan to acquire to destroy the universe? What do you intend to do with the remainder of your life?"

Valina was quiet for a minute, allowing the question to percolate in her thoughts for a time. It wasn't as if the question hadn't occurred to her, for it had. She just as of yet had no answer to give.

"I... I suppose I'll try to take revenge on the Hyper Force again after this..." she supplied lamely.

The ginger simian nodded curtly. "And then?"

She kept her eyes glued to the dotted line that cut through the center of the road. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet..." she mumbled.

An incredulous expression. "How can you not have—?"

"Mandarin, what does it matter to you, anyway?" she sighed irritably. "How on Shuggazoom do my future plans—or lack thereof—affect you?"

The monkey paused shortly, but after a moment replied, "Considering that I am now your servant, Valina, your future plans will affect me greatly, as I will be helping to carry them out."

Valina's expression slackened. There was a pause, then, "Oh."

The witch consulted her map briefly, and took a left. Mandarin had returned to staring silently out the window. After another minute, though, the monkey was opening conversation again.

"What are you going to do to Grimmlock when you meet him again?"

The ex-sorceress blinked once or twice before quirking an eyebrow at the simian. "Rather chatty this evening, aren't we, Mandarin?"

The party in question averted his eyes and shrugged in an attempt to be aloof.

Nevertheless, Valina felt a grin crossing her mouth. The thought of what she'd do once she had that worm Grimmlock at her mercy was giddying, but the fact that the question was being asked at all was greatly comforting. It was so vindictive, so _bloodthirsty_; it was exactly the kind of thing she'd expect Mandarin to have rolling around his head right then. It was good to see the monkey exude some of his typical behaviors. He'd been uncharacteristically passive since the previous night's incident (by his standards, anyway) and Valina had found herself feeling rather disconcerted.

"Remember what I did to you to get you to swear to be my minion?"

Mandarin looked torn between bitterness and intrigue.

"Vividly," he growled –the tone he used covered "bitter" fairly well— "Why? Are you planning to travel down a similar vein with Grimmlock?" And now, intrigued.

The sadistic smile on the witch's face grew. "Something like that," she said silkily. "Only _worse_."

The corners of the monkey's mouth twitched up to match his mistress.

"I want to break him; inside and out," she continued, her voice becoming quieter but the fire in her eyes intensifying. "I want to see him _sob_. When he's _bawling_ for mercy, then maybe I'll stop…"

Valina could have laughed out loud at the look that crossed her minion's face. "You're actually thinking about _stopping_ when once you've got him begging for clemency?"

"Of course," the witch scoffed, then turned to smirk at the simian. "You'll be wanting your turn at _some point_, won't you?"

Mandarin couldn't help it; he grinned like a child who'd been told Christmas was coming early.

* * *

_Jaesin Buckley had had an almost sinfully long life._

Actually, there was nothing "almost" about it; he'd had a sinfully –and we must emphasize "sinfully"— long life. He was ninety-four when he died, and what's more, it hadn't even been old age that had killed him. Nobody really even had a _name_ for what had killed the old man, because it had never been seen before. The man's insides seemed to have _literally _been tied into in knots, rupturing themselves and choking off others.

This criss-crossing of organs _still _wasn't what had killed Jaesin Buckley, however, according to the coroners. Mr. Buckley had died when his heart had **spontaneously exploded **in his chest.

His death had eventually been classified as a "medical anomaly."

He was unmarried and had no children. He'd been found one grey morning by a neighbor who'd been out for his early morning jog. The door, the runner would go on to claim, had been wide open when he'd passed it, and vaguely crooked in the door frame. Thinking this unusual, he had trotted over to inspect the house. Looking inside, he discovered the entry in complete disarray. He called out once, twice, a third time for good measure, then hastily entered the house and followed the trail of upturned and broken furniture to Jaesin Buckley's already cold remains.

The police deduced that the door and furniture had been knocked down by Buckley himself. One or two of his neighbors (very few claimed to have known Jaesin, and, oddly, those who did didn't seem terribly aggrieved that he had died) testified that the old man was still shockingly strong for his age. Clearly, whatever it was that had made the man's organs decide to practice their vertical knot had hit as he was going in for the night. The intense pain had made it impossible for him to open the door, so he had instead just kicked it open. Once inside, he'd have wheeled around in a delirium of agony, presumably trying to find his telephone to call an ambulance, before he finally collapsed on the floor, either to die or already dead.

The elderly man's face, obviously contorted in pain, looked almost furious when he'd been found. What was more, his hands were clamped tightly around a strange looking pendant that hung from his neck. An old family heirloom, perhaps, one he never got to pass on. Or a keepsake of some sort, maybe from an old friend, long since deceased. There were a number of speculations revolving around the strange pendant the man clung to in death, but no matter the reason, it was clear that Jaesin Buckley's thoughts had gone to whatever sentiments it represented to him in his last few moments.

_The coroners took pity on the elderly man, and when his ashes were placed in an urn and filed away, the amulet was filed with them._

* * *

"...A graveyard? ..._Really?_"

"Mm-hmm. Poetic enough to make you want to vomit, isn't it?"

Mandarin held the gun loosely to his chest –nothing had been easy up to this point; he didn't see why the cycle would break _now_– and glanced some of the names engraved on the headstones he and Valina were maneuvering around, the words flinging themselves at him as though each was vying for his attention. Then there were no more headstones, and he and his mistress were cutting a clear path for the northern section of the graveyard.

Shuggazoom's great filing cabinet of death.

Witch and Minion observed the shelves in silence for a second, before Minion said flatly, "Well, at least we won't have to _dig_..."

Valina nodded, looking intently at her own amulet. Two shelves down, three urns to the left...

"It's in this one," she said pointing. Her hands were beginning to shake as adrenaline built up in her system in preparation. This was it... She was going to get her powers back. Just one more stop after this...

The sorceress turned to the monkey standing next to her. "I take this amulet and we're opening that portal immediately, you know..."

"Here? In plain sight?"

A nod. "Right here. There's no one around, and anyway, I want to get this done with."

Mandarin arched an eyebrow bemusedly. "Alright... so why are you bothering to waste the time to tell me this then?"

Valina looked away suddenly. "I just wanted to make sure you were ready for this."

The simian blinked in surprise, and the witch added, "Grimmlock was a... 'challenge,' let's say, for me _with _my powers." Privately, Valina added, _I could be killed as soon as I step between the worlds. Dying on my feet this time would be a marked improvement compared to my last experience, but... That's unacceptable._

She still wouldn't look at him. "I want to be sure you'll be focused enough to watch my back."

Mandarin momentarily considered pointing out that if Grimmlock managed to regain control of him, Valina's back would be the first place he'd end up going, presumably with something hard and sharp in hand. He actually started to open his mouth, then abruptly swallowed the words. There was no need to tell Valina this, because it was not going to happen. He wouldn't let it.

So instead he just said, "I will be," and left it there.

The witch nodded, replacing her own amulet around her neck and reaching for the urn in front of her. Her fingertips brushed the lid, but then she was jerking her hand back and crying out.

Mandarin was at her side, confused, as she cradled the offending appendage to her chest. "Witch...?"

"It burned me," she hissed resentfully. "There must be a spell on it—"

Then there was a third voice.

"Should've expected that, now, shouldn't you?"

The lid of the urn had been knocked off when the sorceress had yanked her hand back, and now something white and wispy was floating up from the mouth of the jar. A face pulled itself out of the fog, along with a misty cloud-like formation under the chin, giving the impression of a great, bushy beard.

Mandarin raised the gun hastily, and the face scowled.

"Put that thing down, abomination," it growled scornfully. "Does it _look _like bullets would work on me?"

The simian hesitated another second, then slowly lowered the fire arm. The thing of condensed fog huffed curtly.

Valina, for her part, stared on quietly, eyebrow quirked.

The specter turned, saw her and its expression suddenly became unreadable. "You're the Cincos' daughter."

"I am," Valina said. "You're Jaesin Buckley. You helped initiate me into the Circle."

"I did."

(Mandarin, who since the "Dia" incident had resolved himself to the fact that the witch was much more informed than he was in these matters, stood the gun vertically on the ground and leaned on it to wait, mentally checking off all the questions he'd ask his mistress later.)

Buckley's eyes absorbed the sorceress for a moment before commenting with a leer, "You've grown since your time in the Savage Lands..."

Valina narrowed her eyes. "Yes," she all but spat, "and you've _died_ since my time in the Savage Lands."

The apparent ghost suddenly swelled in fury. "I didn't just _die_, you insolent child, I was _murdered!_"

The bellow, along with Buckley's increase in size—for he had quite literally expanded with rage—caused both Valina and Mandarin to step back a few paces. The specter noticed, but ignored it, instead choosing to continue his tirade.

"They ambushed me coming home, now didn't they? Couple of young upstarts from the Circle didn't like the way I went and did things; thought they could do _better_! _Ha_! If they'd chose to fight me one-on-one, like _men_, I could have slaughtered them brats like the _dogs_ they were! But they knew that of course! They took me by surprise and attacked all at once! Oh, but I got a few of _them _before they took me down, don't you worry—!"

He stopped suddenly, as if a thought had just struck him, and with his voice seething and slow, eyes narrowed, _"Why were you trying to reach into my urn, girlie?"_

Valina paused, swallowed, then said, as evenly as she could, "I need your amulet."

Buckley once again underwent a surge of anger, but this one was much quieter and more terrible than the last. Quietly, he asked, "My amulet? You were trying to take... my _amulet_?"

The witch maintained her composure, though when she spoke, she spoke quickly, as though desperate to appease. "The Circle has been destroyed, Buckley, and my powers have been stolen. I need your amulet to open a portal, to complete the circle. I—"

"You'll not have it," the ghost growled. "I thought your parents had taught you better, girl; you do _NOT_ ask for another's amulet." Buckley's wispy form seemed to shake with indignation. "And, let's say that this _wasn't_ an unforgivable offence for you to ask me for my amulet, what do you think's keeping me here, hmm?"

Valina and Mandarin watched as the ghost went on. "My power—hell, the majority of my _soul_, probably—was focused into that amulet. The spell I used in my last moments to anchor me here can't sustain itself without it. And you expect me to just _give _it to you?"

"I _need_ it!" the sorceress blurted fiercely. Her childhood fear for the dead man in front of her was squirming in her gut, but she was too incensed to care. She had _not_ come all this way just to be told off by some bitter old codger!

Buckley's expression darkened by shades. He began to open his mouth once more, presumable to start yelling again—

"It wouldn't have to be for nothing, you know..."

Both mages paused, turning to look at the small simian standing between them.

After a moment, Buckley said, "What, exactly, are you planning to give me? I'm _dead_, abomination. I have no use for anything you could give possess. And even if I did, I'd be long gone before I ever got to use it if I were to give you my amulet."

To Valina's increasing confusion, Mandarin began to grin. "That may be true, but vengeance isn't exactly something you ever really 'possess' to begin with, now is it?"

The specter's face became blank and the monkey continued, "You said that you got 'a few' of your attackers; not all. I can't imagine living as a disembodied spirit is a very fulfilling existence to begin with, but being a disembodied spirit _unjustly_ and unable to exact vengeance must be that much more unpleasant. If you were to do _us _a favor by giving us your amulet, then perhaps we would feel inclined to do _you_ a favor by doing what you cannot for you..."

Buckley's eyes flashed almost imperceptibly. "You'd seek out the rats that killed me... and kill _them_?"

The ghost's voice was even, void of emotion, but Mandarin had detected the hungry look that had flickered in his eyes. The monkey smirked deviously, and said, "We'll even inform them why we're there and pass along your compliments if you'd like..."

There was a span of silence in which Buckley considered this, before he turned his head and looked at Mandarin suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. "How am I to know you'll do everything you say you will?"

"We'll swear on your amulet before you depart. You have enough magic left to secure something like that, yes?"

The old man watched the monkey carefully for a few seconds, as if trying to detect deceit. Then he asked, quietly, "Why again... are you two so eager to get my amulet?"

Valina (who, until this point, had relocated herself to the sidelines to let her minion finagle; she was admittedly impressed with his quick-thinking) patiently repeated, "My powers have been stolen, Buckley. I need your amulet to complete the Circle so I can get them back."

The elder looked at her sharply. "Stolen?" he asked—he sounded half-incredulous, half-dismissive. "By who?"

Valina hesitated, then, "By a man named Grimmlock."

Buckley, whose emotional range up until then had been back and forth between furious and impassive, took on a decidedly shocked expression.

"Impossible," he breathed. "Grimmlock is dead."

Valina was beginning to feel a bit put off that every Skeleton Circle member she'd mentioned this to knew exactly who Grimmlock was, and wanted to ask why, if he was such a bloody huge conversation topic, no one had bothered to mention him to her.

She crossed her arms and held back a huff. "So are you," she said dryly. "Hardly seems to be holding you back."

"_No_, you ignorant brat! I was murdered by a few Circle flunkies; _Lord Skeleton King himself _killed Grimmlock. I know, I was there when it happened. I _watched_. He was _dead_."

The sorceress opened her mouth to point out that if Grimmlock was still connected to his amulet, it wouldn't make a difference who had killed him, but Buckley had started talking again.

"The only reason _I'm_ still here is because I cast a spell as I was slipping away; that's the only way _anyone_ could have stayed. The only person who has enough dark power to do it intrinsically is our Lord Skeleton King!"

Valina's brow crinkled, finding this new information a bit worrisome. If this was all true, then why hadn't _she_ died? She certainly hadn't cast any spell before she'd been killed—there'd been no time. She's been surprised, and unprepared, and so damn _heartbroken _it made her sick.

A thought occurred to her, and apparently Buckley, too, because as she opened her mouth to voice it he exclaimed, "Of course!"

The witch shut her mouth and waited, feeling just the slightest bit exasperated.

"That's how the traitor did it!" Buckley would've most likely been spitting in rage had he had any saliva left. "He'd stolen so much by that time he was able to transcend the boundaries without the proper spell! That thieving _bastard!_"

It struck Valina abruptly while the ghost was ranting that he—unlike her—_knew _things about Grimmlock. It made sense, considering he'd probably been the oldest member of the Circle, and he'd said he'd been there when the wizard had been killed.

She had to know more. Any information she could get on the man was valuable, especially now. Besides... mental torture via past traumas was her specialty.

"Buckley... You said you were there when he'd been killed?"

"More than just there! I'd been one of the people holding the traitorous worm in place as he awaited judgment from the Skeleton King! And _that_ was forty years ago!"

Valina made a concentrated effort not to appear too eager. "Could you tell me what happened?"

Buckley was only too glad to do so. "He was stealing, was what happened! Siphoning power from the Skeleton King! Enough, apparently, to evade death! It was your parents that caught him and his accomplice one night; who knows how long they'd been stealing up until that point!"

The witch briefly considered asking about the accomplice, but instead moved on to something she deemed a bit more relevant: "My parents?"

The ghost eyed her coldly. "Did you never wonder what they did to rise so high in the Circle's ranks?" Valina sensed a note of bitterness here, but made no comment on it.

Buckley went on, "Skeleton King gave the accomplice to the Void; Grimmlock he reduced to ash!"

Valina felt a shiver run the length of her spine and said nothing.

"Almost a shame he didn't take more time killing him, really. After all he'd given the traitor, and given the crime, it would've been more than deserved..."

The sorceress quirked an eyebrow. "What had he given him?"

"A position! A purpose! A chance at all, for that matter! When the boy was initiated into the Circle he'd already killed eight of our members!"

The witch was taken rather aback by this. He'd killed eight sorcerers before he'd even _touched_ magic? "Why did Skeleton King allow it then?"

The bitterness Valina had heard in Buckley's tone earlier now freely seeped into his expression. "The boy showed promise. The first time I saw him he was being dragged in by a few of our more skilful members to be brought before the Skeleton King. That was right after he'd killed the others–all at once, no less!–and I'd say he'd been fifteen if he was a day. Our Lord was impressed. Any member who could be brought down by a single child wasn't worth his time anyway, he'd said. The child that had managed to kill them, on the other hand…

"He _was _talented; I won't insult our King's judgment by saying otherwise. Learned all our tricks quick enough; seemed loyal. Fooled us all there, didn't he? So much in fact that only five years later he was Skeleton King's second in command… last person you'd expect to steal power, eh? The greedy son of a bitch…

"And now you're trying to tell me the traitor's still at it, even in death?"

The sorceress nodded, still trying to process the information she'd been given. Grimmlock had lied to her, or at least put a vastly different twist on the story; he'd made himself seem the innocent victim.

Valina scoffed inwardly. Somehow she didn't find any of the above particularly surprising.

"I want your word."

The witch blinked. "What?"

"I want your word that you'll go after the maggots that murdered me once you reclaim your powers."

Her heart skipped. "You're letting me have it then?"

"_If _you give me your word. The abomination's right; existence is meaningless in this form. All I've desired since the day I was killed is the deaths of those who ended me. I can't attain it like this on my own, and one good turn deserves another, the way I see it. If you swear to this on my amulet, you may take it to do what you must."

Valina swallowed, saying, "Alright."

The specter nodded downwards, towards the urn, and Valina reached forward into it. She felt the medallion within, and tried to pull it out without touching the ashes as well. Buckley stared at her stonily as she held it in her hands.

"Have the abomination touch it too," he said. "I don't _think _there's any way for him to free you from this agreement on his own, but I'll take no chances."

The witch lowered the amulet so the monkey could reach, and she saw him just barely stop from rolling his eyes as he placed his clawed hand over the jewel.

"Now… do you swear to avenge my death?"

Both Mandarin and Valina murmured, "Yes," and light began to filter through their fingers. A weak feeling crept quickly up their arms from under their skin before settling over their hearts and strengthening, and then disappearing altogether.

Buckley evaporated like steam into the air as soon as the feeling faded. Faintly, Valina thought she heard a rough voice growl, "good-luck."

And then Valina and Mandarin were standing alone in the graveyard, both clutching the amulet.

A minute passed, and slowly, Valina felt a near hysteric smile cross her face.

The sorceress straightened and removed the bag from her back. Mandarin took a step back and readied the gun as she quickly pulled amulet after amulet from the depths of the pack, dropping them on the ground. Upon letting the last hit the grass, she knelt down and began to arrange them into a circle.

When she finished, she stood up, sent a meaningful glance in her minion's direction, and began to chant.

* * *

Grimmlock sat in his house and glared blankly at the far wall. He was calm now, for the most part. Still terribly angry, yes; still entertaining thoughts of bloodshed; but his outward appearance was more-or-less placid.

He couldn't stand to be in the simian's mind right then; the risk of losing control again was too great. So once again he had taken to prodding his own thoughts, this time going deeper and farther back into his mind than he'd ever bothered to go previously.

Grimmlock was a bit surprised by how much he'd pushed to the back of his consciousness.

His favorite color was red, for example. The color of his eyes had been the one thing he'd liked about his appearance, and he had a vague, irrational worry all of a sudden that they had changed over the course of his stay in Limbo. (There were no mirrors in this place, so how was he supposed to know otherwise?) Socks had been some of his least favorite things, because he'd been physically incapable of keeping holes out of them. His favorite food had been apples. He'd had a lava lamp when he was seven that he had just _adored_...

He really, truly, honestly _**hated**_ this house, and he didn't even know why.

To be fair, Grimmlock hated _everything_ about Limbo. He had hated the never-ending fog and murky skies, as well as the forest of decayed, dead trees that had clawed up so fruitlessly for it. He now hated the barren and utterly empty landscape around him, even though this hatred lacked the passion with which he had despised the former. But more than anything, he hated this house.

Perhaps it had something to do with how reminiscent it was to the house he'd spent his childhood in…

Oh dear. That was most certainly _not_ something he wanted to think about with the mood he was in. Something else, something else…

But really, now that he looked, the likeness was undeniable. _That_ house had been a bit bigger, granted (not by much, and only because it had possessed more than a single room), but it had also been in terrible disrepair, much like this one. Almost on par with it, actually. He'd fretted endlessly that _that_ house would fall down on his head while he was sleeping, and the only thing that had kept him from doing it with this one was that he was already dead.

Honestly though, all this was doing was making him reconsider tearing the place to the ground. He really should search for a different topic to think of—

Now that he thought about it, even the _wood_ that made up the house looked similar. Partially rotted, damp, dark in color…The beams on the ceiling were _exactly_ how he remembered the ones in the other house. But there was even something more under that, there was a more solid connection than a mere resemblance…

He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable now. He was on the brink of something here –though he wasn't entirely sure what— and he found he really didn't care to know what it was. (Ironic, considering the only reason he'd let the house remain standing was because he'd vaguely planned to unearth whatever it was that would always twitch in the bottom of his mind when he looked at it.)

In a desperate attempt to ease the trepidation stirring in his chest, he reminded himself that this room –the _sole room_ in this _entire_ house– had been absolutely nowhere in the memories of his childhood home.

The thought had its desired effect, and he realized he'd been gripping the armrests of his chair rather tightly as his grip relaxed.

Something was flickering in his doorway.

Grimmlock's crimson eyes were dragged over to the spot, which he stared at curiously for a moment. He was a bit rusty as far as magic was concerned; it took him a moment to recognize what it was. He would later be happy that he'd been alone when he figured out what was before him; he had quite literally _scrambled_ to his feet in an embarrassingly eager manner to reach it.

The wizard paused, taking a final look around the house before he would put his mind to rest about it.

His brow creased angrily and he spat upon the floorboards before approaching the source of the flickering.

He'd be truly glad to leave this house.

* * *

Atalanta started splitting her time between sleeping and pumpkin soup with toast, followed by iron tablets. The artery had been cauterized with a laser ("A chopstick? You can't be serious, dear," her father had said), so really, Atalanta mused, it was just a freak flesh wound now.

Within forty hours she had swung her slender, sinewy body out of bed and walked right out the door, to bring in a load of laundry. As she passed the living room she noticed that the old ornamental sword–which had until now rested shyly above the mantelpiece—was absent. In her memory there was a picture of a long black leather scabbard, the hilt wrapped in thick cloth.

And now it was missing. At first Atalanta only realized that this indicated something out of the ordinary. She had no idea it also meant that the Game had changed.

* * *

"Atalanta. Get out of the car."

"I'm not getting out of the car."

A head of dark hair bobbed up from under the back seat. Atalanta combed the dust out of her bangs. "You're either going to turn this car around and stay home where it's safe, or you're going to tell me what this is all about."

"I don't like your tone of voice, young lady."

Atalanta buckled herself in, looking to Mercury in the front passenger seat. He'd turned around and she didn't like the panicked expression on his face. "Well?"

"Let him be. I'll tell you, since it looks like we're all going out. As a family." Cadel gave a sardonic chuckle. "Your assignment from last week. I'm afraid the fact that it was a two-part mission... Let's say, was _neglected_. You are, of course, in no condition to complete the second part yourself."

"The... woman? And the monkey creature?" Atalanta furrowed her brow. "I was sure I killed them, but they came back and I- What do you mean, a second part? Kill them _again?_ I haven't done it properly the first time!"

"Nope. Apparently this time we're on their side." Mercury chimed in. He had his beloved waterproof green coat buttoned around him, though considering how old it was it was probably about as waterproof as a long-haired dog. "There's gonna be a nasty showdown. We're protecting them."

"Protecting only the young lady, you understand. The animal, well, it's more complicated with him. But simply put, we're going to be backstabbing our client. The 'second part' of the assignment was to help him now, but I _just_ don't feel like it, do you?"

Atalanta noted the harsh angles at which her father held his arms while gripping the steering wheel, as well as the lazy sarcasm in his voice. "Father... You don't mean to _fight,_ do you?"

"Mercury. Show her my sword. I want you to look closely at it."

The young man passed the familiar black scabbard over his shoulder. Atalanta rested it in her palms for a moment, like it had rested on its hooks at home, before drawing it partway. The blade sang as it escaped the leather and shone as if _attacking_ the very air with its brightness.

Her father looked proudly at the rear view mirror. The sword was straight, elegantly thin. _It... fits him, somehow, _Atalanta thought. Then she realised there was a smoky engraving near the hilt: a bolt of lightning behind a bulbous hammer.

"A god's symbol?"

"Thor. Your mother had this made. Thought it was a clever trick with names. I didn't have the heart to tell her Theodore wasn't my real one." Cadel's shrug looked indifferent, but the fact that his ice blue eyes wouldn't look up to the mirror again told Atalanta that he was playing against the old emotions.

Quietly, Atalanta said, "I've seen this sword all my life. So Mother commissioned it and gave it to you. I never knew that." She slid the sword back into the sheath just as solemnly. They kept driving.

* * *

_"It's an alternate world?" young Valina had once asked. "I get to play in it," she later realized. "Whatever game I want?"_

It was gone sunset. The heavens were concrete grey and the trees on the hill took on a blurred look.

The chanted words slid off her tongue like oil, the language so corrupted that the original, innocent syntax resembled none of it. _Serve,_ Valina murmured, _today you serve me..._

The thirteen amulets glowed, one by one the amulets glowed, in a circle the amulets glowed... Pink. Purple. Black.

Grey wraiths sprang into life. A shadow on the side of a headstone became a walking grey man, the shadow on the path flipped up and became a tottering child. The shapes were unmistakably human, the outlines defined with detail, but they were made of only greyness and left bright cut-outs in the grass they'd risen from. As you looked around you would still see the image of the hills and the stones, but this was a place where the impossible happened. Valina had been raised in this world.

The smoky figures came from all corners of the cemetery, converging on Valina's circle. As they walked, heavy step by heavy step, features wavered in and out of focus. Hands began to poke out of the dark mist, a pair of blue eyes peered out of its veil. The two shorter ones –children, Valina realized warily—skipped circles around each other. Her breath hitched and her skin crawled, unable to shake the feeling that these wraiths were _surrounding_ her.

But instead they changed course to form a row just in front of her, and the wraith standing calmly just to Valina's right said, in a girl's voice, "We... have been called for." A sunset orange blur appeared on the upper part of its body, flashing like television static.

It gave no sign that it recognized the witch, and though it sounded perfectly normal, perfectly alive, its voice was flat and emotionless.

But then, the wraith's hand took the hand of the one next to it, a shorter shadow with a single green eye looking fiercely out of the grey mass. And yes, there was a memory of freckles stamped on its head. Both their hands held on tightly.

"Your orders?" the group whispered.

Valina swallowed. "I'll need more than just half a dozen sorcerers, two teenagers and a couple of infants," she muttered eventually, in the vague direction of the spirit with ginger hair.

In life, the girl would have slapped her. Here and now her ghost said, "We'll call them." At its word the sky broke apart into pieces, with carrion birds, a pack of hairy boars, long, coiled dragons and all manner of unreal beasts detaching themselves from the background. Silently, the creatures alighted on the farthest hills. Streaks of cloud served as eyes, and as their bodies draped over the jacaranda trees they watched for the word of the sorceress they served. One day. One command.

The sight of the assembled spirits settled Valina more than surprised her. In her confused childhood, 'playing' was the one thing she'd been flawlessly good at. The tension build-up from the last few days slipped out of her muscles. Valina tossed back her hair, stepped into the centre of the amulet circle. She still wore the disguise of jeans and she was, for now, a woman who looked oh, so very young and beautiful.

"Today, _you_ are my magic," she said, "You fight for me. That is all."

First, a roar rose up from the hills. Second, the rest of the sky split and fell down.

* * *

Cadel shrugged off his coat to expose a dark suit. The fabric was fine, pin-striped and smooth. The old man draped the tan overcoat over a white headstone and fixed the black scabbard to his belt.

"You look pale, Atalanta," he remarked casually.

"Why are we here?" she whispered. The Shuggazoom cemetery. She hadn't been expecting the cemetery. So far, they were alone. She didn't want to be here anymore.

Her father sighed. "You have no need to be on this assignment, sweetheart. But you insisted. Mercury and I would have been sufficient. I could have assured you that I can hold my own in the field, yes, with these clothes, and yes, with this antique weapon."

Cadel finished with the scabbard and nodded to Mercury. "No distractions." Cadel started walking.

The fair-haired boy tugged at his fingerless gloves and stared at his mentor's back. "Game's on," he said under his breath.

Mercury stuck his hands in his coat pockets, thinking, _I'm about to die. I'm going to walk right into and die in front of her, _for _her because she's the most important thing in the world to me. I'm never gonna kiss her like that again._

"Ata. We've been friends since forever, yeah?"

Atalanta had kneeled behind a headstone and was now trying to sight along a rifle. The lighting at this time of day was terrible, in between brightness and darkness. She looked up, gulped. "Yes. We're friends."

Mercury gave a monkey-ish grin. "Great." He, too, started walking, leaving the girl behind. _It'll be worth it, _he decided.

Cadel had turned around after a few rows. "Atalanta," he called back. A dark circle of hair and an out-of-focus suited figure, walking backwards. "Lie low. Understand?"

* * *

The woman closed her eyes. She brought her hands above her head as if grabbing invisible curtains, and in one violent movement dragged the atoms of the universe apart.

Valina opened her eyes, feeling dizzy and feverish. But she pulled herself together, watching a ripple travel through the air, like a heat haze above a road. Waves, up and down... The ripple stopped. The air splashed, and the portal opened.

Valina spied him in the middle of two rows of grey trees, the fog of Limbo separated to give a clear and straight path between the two of them. Equal distance from them both, a circular door cut out in the air. A crackling sound filled the witch's ears; it was the sound of fireworks, matching the golden light that coruscated around the edges of the circle. It was the sound of two worlds crashing together.

Valina's heart was thundering. This was the time that gave her a future or ended her life, but she'd started acting on autopilot. _Absorb everything. Act when the opportunity arises. _She could see Grimmlock, see the folds of his brown robe, but his head was down and he wasn't moving at all.

Valina's view was obscured for a single moment as a bank of fog passed across the portal...

Grimmlock stepped through the fog, through the door, chest thrust out in exultation. Valina heard his sharp intake of breath as his foot touched down on the grass. A thin smile curved under his hood.

Mandarin raised the gun and shot a bullet into Grimmlock's chalk white neck. The flesh swallowed it up... And didn't bleed. The bullet had gone right through him, dragging a wisp of white smoke out of the back of Grimmlock's neck.

Within the instant he was right in front of Valina, his eyes boring into hers from an inch away. _"Miss me, dearest?"_

Her reflexes took over: Valina snapped the heel of her hand into his face. For the first half a second her arm went through his head, for the second half Grimmlock came apart and re-materialized just out of her reach. Valina gasped, cradling her strained arm. That explained the apparent teleportation—

Mandarin was adapting much more quickly. "Attack!" he roared.

A wraith from Valina's ranks flew at the robed figure with a banshee's scream, flying almost horizontal with a tail of shadow streaming behind it, and it kept screaming up until the point when Grimmlock reached into its torso and squeezed the shadow in his hand. The shape appeared to **scrunch**. It—_she—_arched and bucked. A waterfall of hair made a silhouette against the sky as the wraith was twisted, collapsed into a ball, and thrown to Grimmlock's side.

At once the remaining spirits attacked in unison. They flew low at Grimmlock's body, shadow-mouths wide open as if to tear him apart. Valina saw the sky creatures flit on the sides of her vision before swooping in on the sorcerer. Silently–they were just broken colors and shapes after all. He was smothered in the coils of Valina's army—Mandarin was shouting something to her _what was it_ what was it—?

The shape of Grimmlock, red eyes flashing, slid out of the mess and came for her. His hand curved out, was that his hand cupping her cheek? And then his thumb–the cold incorporeal image of a thumb–was **brushing over Valina's lips**.

She gasped loudly at the contact and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Valina stumbled backwards into reality. She'd lost her grip on the portal, the frayed strings of her control cut so cruelly. The ghosts of the Skeletal Circle were gone. The sky was back in one piece. Mandarin was still shouting, something Valina couldn't decipher. She'd fallen. Landed on her back on the grass of the cemetery. She felt afraid.

"You lost control of your play-world. Should have known better than to do that."

Grimmlock. The sorcerer had his arms folded, his thin figure leaning against the edge of a marble ash cabinet mere feet away from Valina's collapsed form. He was grinning from ear to ear. He looked smug, just as Valina remembered. A sort of rosy blush even lit up his cheeks. The man looked _happy!_

The Skull Sorceress was petrified to have him before her.

Valina groaned, spat and got to her knees. She was shivering, severely weakened by the forced exit from the middle world. Opening the portal, tearing the universe apart with her bare hands– that would have been the end of her if she hadn't had the amulets to keep it open, feeding it with their residue magic. And that touch... His finger on her lips, the shockwaves to her very core...

_He's not attacking. Why isn't he using his magic?_ she wondered.

"I can see through you," Valina breathed. Her brain worked feverishly to make sense of it. She literally could see through him; Grimmlock's figure was watery and thin. Her hand had passed through him, the bullet had left him unharmed. Grimmlock was insubstantial. Valina had a bad feeling about what was coming next...

Grimmlock stuck out his lower lip. Oh yes, Valina remembered those pointed shark's teeth... "Alas, I seem to have left my body back in the world you picked me up from."

The manic grin returned and he tapped his chin with a dirty nail. "And my eternal thanks for that favor, darling Valina," he said, looking gleefully down at her. "A ghost of my former self I may be, I do prefer this setting. And you greet me on your knees. How fitting," Grimmlock purred.

Valina growled deep in her throat and forced herself to her feet. "You're nothing!" she spat. "You can't use magic without a body! You can't hurt me!"

Grimmlock's bloody eyes narrowed dangerously. "I can hurt _him._"

Mandarin threw down the gun and fell to his knees. His skull seemed to rattle. Red seeped into his vision as a blood vessel near his eye burst. But Mandarin crawled towards the gun, raised it while lying on his stomach. Six bullets zipped through the sorcerer, up and down in a row.

He knew his shots did no harm but slowly, Mandarin stood again, blood running down the side of his face. "Lacks the _bite _it used to have, you know," he said in a low voice. "Have I gotten stronger or have _you_ gotten weaker?"

Grimmlock ground his teeth together. He unfolded his arms. "Seems like you have a death wish, simian. Well. I don't need you anymore."

**Skulls. Burning pinpoints of light in their eye sockets. They zoomed towards Mandarin's face. He was pitiable, they boomed. He was a coward. He would serve forever and never be free. Mandarin thrashed and turned his head away. Spiders ran up his body, buried in his fur, crawling underneath his bone armour. Something took the point of his tail, pulled. Mandarin felt the little bones suck futilely at each other, before they separated with a pop. He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered with fear. Pop, pop, pop, pop, and spears of pain to the base of his spine. The Void? Wasn't he in the Void now? Skulls, and scales, and teeth. Bone white teeth. Lapping red tongues. Swallow him up. Sizzle in the belly. No, not that! He thought he was free from that!**

"I will _always _be able to hurt him!" Grimmlock crowed. "Because he gave his mind to me, and _I!_ I am the one who OWNS him!"

"Don't you dare touch him! He's mine!"

"He's your servant. But he's _my_ slave. It doesn't take any magic to control the creature. Valina, Valina, Valina..."

Grimmlock's bony body rose into a standing position, the hem of his robe rippling and buffeting around his ankles. A strong, cold wind whipped between the marble rows. The man's face had twisted into a sneer.

"I was in control all along, don't you realize?"

**Their skinless jaws opened, gaped hugely.**

"Who sent the monkey to the Pit of Doom so you could be reborn?"

**His limbs were bone. Their teeth were bone. Which would break first?**

"I claimed your powers, and then you brought all the pieces you needed to find me again, and opened the door that _I _needed to get out."

Valina froze. A leaden weight dropped into her stomach. _I knew about his glamour on Mandarin. But... since the beginning? He planned everything? No, there has to be something he didn't count on... _Grimmlock started walking towards her.

Mandarin grabbed Valina's wrists. At first she yelped and tried to pry them out of his grip, but he wasn't actively trying to hurt her. With how determinedly he held on she wondered if she was the only anchor to reality he had.

"Mandarin! Get a hold of yourself!" Valina tried to shake the monkey's shoulders, but he was rolling, jerking in the throes of a seizure. She could see the whites of his eyes. "It's in your head, you can fight back, you're here and you're safe—"

Grimmlock couldn't comprehend why she was ignoring him. That realization filled him with even more anger. He had turned the simian against her, and could again at any moment, but still she wouldn't abandon him, wouldn't shoot him to put him out of his misery...

"You're pathetic!" he screamed. Grimmlock's eyes darted to the ritual circle. It was getting darker by the second. The moon was rising. Grimmlock neared the circle of amulets–why was he bothering to walk, he thought, he was a ghost, he had no weight–the stones started glowing once more...

He let a satisfied smile slide across his face. The amulets were moving by themselves, shaking in the grass until the points on the pendants clanged together. Grimmlock drew back the sleeve on his right arm; slowly, the stones shifted towards him as if magnetized, shimmered as they floated. The thirteen chains arranged themselves on his pallid arm.

"I have one last errand," Grimmlock announced, turning back. "I'm going to get my body back."

"What?" Valina snapped her head up, eyebrows knitting together. She saw the amulets on Grimmlock's arm. _Oh gods..._

"Your final favor to me, my dear," he said, lifting one amulet in his other hand and winking at her. "First these amulets gave me an escape. Now they'll let me live again. You gave me more than I ever dreamed, my dear Valina."

Valina left Mandarin, yanking her hands away at last, and sprinted toward Grimmlock. She had her hands out, aimed at his throat, she threw herself in his path-

Grimmlock threw his head back and laughed when she fell right through him. "Oh, _**well done, **_Skull Sorceress! You've SEALED YOUR FATE!"

Then he noticed something in the distance. "Ah. The muscle's arrived."

Valina had landed hard on the dirt. Her breastbone ached. She pushed up onto her elbows and recognised the old man with grey hair and blue eyes. They'd gone to his house for information. He'd given it to them...

"You set this up," she moaned, fighting to breathe with her sore chest. "I'll find some way. I'll make you pay, Grimmlock."

Grimmlock gave Valina one final look. "I'm sorry. I'd have liked to see you fight to the last breath." His shape started breaking apart into mist, starting with the bottom of his robe. A few moments later he was gone completely.

Cadel swooped in, a long sword flashing in his hand. The man used an ash cabinet to jump and land closer, dark jacket flapping. Valina stood, wondering numbly if she could wrestle the sword away before she got hurt, but then Mercury tackled her from behind.

Valina squeezed her eyes shut as her head fell to meet the ground again. She yelled out in pain when both their weights pushed down on her hip. Mud soaked through her jeans. The boy's arms were strong, pinning her arms to her waist. She kicked him wherever she could and contorted her body, trying to worm away.

The old man in the suit was going after Mandarin. Valina spotted his little body on the grass, but he wasn't thrashing anymore. Cadel stood over him. The sword was a thin white line in the gloom, moving from place to place in the air as Cadel held it. The blade resembled lightning.

"Damn it, boy," Valina growled. "Get off me!" She rolled onto her side, bit the tender flesh between Mercury's shoulder and elbow and pushed her way out of his grip with only sheer determination.

Valina scrambled for the gun Mandarin had dropped. There, shoved up against the glass front of a cabinet. The witch looked back at the boy. She looked towards the man.

Cadel's sword was pointed down. The man's stance was solid and balanced. Mandarin- What the hell was Mandarin doing? He was getting up. The skeleton-monkey was getting up on his feet, what, no, he couldn't possibly want to attack-! He was going to get run through; _why the hell wouldn't he stay down?_

Valina heard Mercury sprinting up behind her. She felt along the grip of the gun. A ludicrous amount of adrenaline was pumping through her, like the night in the jungle with the rats; she knew that she was surrounded by enemies and she had to DO something to save herself.

She pressed the button that sent a ball of acidic blue light soaring through the air. Valina held her breath, watched the shot fly right over Mandarin's head and hit the man with the sword squarely in the chest.

Atalanta's eyes widened impossibly before she screamed, and the sound of thunder rocked across the heavens.


End file.
